Qedin-Roliter
by Stormplains
Summary: A case of wrong-place-right-time leads Ja'Kasan, the last Dragonborn, to the Companions. He didn't expect to find anything more than adventure, coin, and mead. Instead, he found a family and a blessing only Aela understands. *Goes through Companions quest line with jumps when necessary. You DO NOT need to have finished the quest line to enjoy this fic.
1. Giant in the Cabbages

**Disclaimer: The Elder Scrolls series, Skyrim, and related titles are property of the developers and creatives.**

 **Author's note:** This isn't my fandom.

Love the games, but I'm not that intense of a fan. Actually just starting Morrowind. Anyway, this story was requested by a friend of mine and I stupidly thought about it so much I couldn't sleep. So here it is.

This chapter is more of a prologue. Also not my best work. If you want my good stuff read "Not How it Works" (X-Men AU) or "D-Factor: New Beginnings" (also X-Men Evolution, but you have to wade through a lot of mediocre stuff to get to the more recent chapters where I suck less).

I did a lot of research on Khajiit lore, Ta'agra, and the Companions, but I know I still probably get some things wrong. Corrections are welcome.

 **Enjoy. Read. Review. (or something)**

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I squint against the sun as I look up from the map in my hands. Alvor had scribbled it quickly on a scrap of parchment upon hearing I was from Elsweyr, but it had served its purpose. I can see Whiterun's walls stretching before me. Thatched rooves peak above the great stone walls, bristling like thistle. Above all, the fortress of Dragonsreach looms.

On first glance, everything is grand. The first real Skyrim city I have seen wanted me to believe in its supposed grandeur. But I see the cracks in the walls, the shoddy water drains leading away from the city, and the haste in which the rooves were built. Perhaps once it was great, but no longer.

 _This is the city which once held a dragon_ , I recall, rolling my map and placing it in my pack. I look down at the cobbled road beneath my feet. _Ha. The Nords build their cities as lean-tos. Meant to last only a few years, but used for far more_. _They don't know when to move on._

The unmistakable _thud_ of an arrow piercing flesh grabs my attention. I turn toward the sound, using a hand to shield my eyes from the midday sun. In the field of a farm just up the road, three warriors are facing off against a giant.

I race toward them, drawing my sword. A Nord woman fires another arrow into the chest of the giant, causing it to stumble. One of her companions, a male Nord, raises a greatsword and brings it down on the giant's leg, causing the giant to fall to one knee. The giant swings its club at the two melee fighters, a last desperate attempt to save itself.

Suddenly, an arrow sprouts from its hand and the giant bellows in pain. I reach the group in time to see the third fighter, a female Imperial, impale the giant with her sword. With a groan, the giant falls forward.

The three warriors cheer. The man claps the Imperial on the shoulder, "What a hunt!" He looks up, catching my eye. A wide smile fills his face, his eyes glittering with bloodlust. "You look strong. Come to Jorrvaskr and be a Companion!"

The Nord woman sheaths her bow and turns to me. Black war paint coats her face in three broad stripes, mimicking claw marks. Her red hair stirs in the wind as she folds her arms across her chest. I've never seen the type of armor she wears before, it is a strange mix of leather, iron plates, and fur. The same bloodlust dances in her eyes, though it stills as she sees me. "Well, that's taken care of…" She drags her eyes over me, taking in my salvaged Stormcloak armor, Imperial sword, and leather boots. "No thanks to you, _cat_."

My fur bristles and I resist the urge to bare my teeth. _Nords and their contempt for Khajiit._ "I didn't think you needed any help."

She laughs, "Certainly not. But a true warrior would have relished the opportunity to take on a giant." She nods her head toward the other Nord and Imperial, "That's why I'm here with my Shield-Brothers."

"I'll try better next time," I say, my lip curling.

"Ha! Another milk drinker crying about his effort." She scoffs.

The other Nord approaches and lays a hand on her shoulder. "Enough, Aela. Come! Let's celebrate our victory as Companions do! More mead!" He chuckles.

The woman, apparently Aela, grins. "Happily, brother."

They turn to leave, but I stop them. "Wait, hold on. Who are you?"

Aela answers. "An outsider, eh? I guess I shouldn't be surprised, cat. You don't have the look of a caravan member." She laughs at me again. "Ever heard of the Companions?" I shake my head and am greeted with a sigh. "An order of warriors. We are brothers and sisters in honor. And we show up to solve problems if the coin is good enough."

"How do you join the Companions?" I ask, thinking it sounds like a good gig. I never asked to deal with dragons, anyway.

"You'll have to talk to Kodlak Whitemane up in Jorrvaskr-"

"That's in Whiterun, friend." The other Nord adds.

Aela glares at him before finishing. "Kodlak's got a good sense for people. He can look in your eyes and tell your worth. If you go to him, good luck." She finishes her words with a smirk; I can see in her eyes she doesn't think much of me.

I grit my teeth and clench my fist over the grip of my sword. "Thank you, Companion." I bow my head.

Aela returns my bow, though it is little more than a head nod. She starts toward Whiterun once more. Her Nord companion, however, comes up to me and wraps an arm around my shoulder. He drags me forward along the road, though it is over-friendliness not malice.

"Tell me, friend. What do they call you?" He asks as the Imperial falls in step beside me.

"Ja'Kasan," I reply, "or simply Kasan."

He places a fist on his chest. "I am Farkas, and this youngster is Ria. You already met our Shield-Sister, Aela." Farkas drops his arm from my shoulder and extends a hand. I shake it. "I hope to fight alongside you soon, Ja'Kasan."

Within a few minutes we reach an archway which leads to the gates of Whiterun. A Khajiit trader sits in front of a fur tent beside the road, and I excuse myself to speak with him. We talk for a few moments, and I buy moonsugar from him, paying more than I should have allowed but I pretend not to notice the price. _Ahzirr durrarriss_ , after all.

I catch back up with the Companions as they are entering the gates of Whiterun. Before I can follow them through the open gates, one of the guards shoves me back.

"Halt, _cat_." He spits, his voice muffled by the encasing helmet he wears. I see Farkas stop Aela and Ria beyond the gate, and the Companions turn back to watch. "The city is closed to visitors." The guard points at my ears. "Especially those of _your kind_. No Khajiit within the city walls."

I bare my fangs and step closer to him. I am taller than he is, even without my ears, and my shoulder broader. My gray fur may give me the appearance of a housecat, but I am anything but. The guard hesitantly steps back. "I just came from Helgen," I state, "I do not have time for your absurdities. I must speak with the Jarl right away."

I watch as the guard's Adam's apple quivers, but he stands his ground. "I won't be intimidated, cat." His words portray more confidence than his voice.

Sighing, I pull out the few coins I have left. 200 gold total. The guard snatches the gold from my palm before I can say anything and stands aside. I don't even grace him with a glare as I pass.

Farkas compliments me on my success, "I've never seen anyone stand up to a guard like that. Come by Jorrvaskr so we can have a drink, Ja'Kasan."

As he and Ria leave, Aela speaks to me. "Not bad, whelp. Perhaps I was wrong about you."

* * *

 **A/N: Ja'Kasan will use more Ta'agra in the next chapter for you nerds. His name uses the "Ja" modifier meaning "bachelor".**

Ta'agra vocab lesson for the week:

 _Ahzirr durrarriss_ \- We give freely to the people. Literally: "our donate". In Ta'agra, you can drop pronouns when the meaning is understood.

So here's the story why I started this (at this point, if you don't care, stop reading): A couple of friends have been talking about Skyrim for weeks. Trading battle stories. Laughing at our stupidity. When we brought up marriage in the game, we threw out the names of characters we like to take as a spouse. Someone threw out Aela and I made this comment:

"Thanks for turning me into a werewolf, will you be my shield sister for eternity?". Which got the response: "Please write a short story for that. Thanks." Literally worst mistake of my life. I've been preoccupied with this idea since. I hope it entertains you because I want to be able to sleep again.

 _Next time: Ja'Kasan is inducted into the Circle after a few months of proving himself, making him one of the fastest rising Companions. Aela has a surprise for him after his first change._


	2. Sarefi di Hircine

**Disclaimer: Continued disclaimer that this isn't mine.**

 **Author's note:** I've made a terrible mistake.

This was supposed to be a small project but it quickly expanded past what I originally imagined. I'm so sorry.

Chapter has been shortened so I can post daily until this story is complete. When complete, I may merge this chapter and the one following back into the original second chapter.

 **Enjoy.**

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 **Sarefi de Hircine**

"What is _that_?" Farkas yells from across the mead hall, Jorrvaskr. It's been three months since I became a Companion. I know their secret, though I have yet to join the ranks of the Circle. My induction is tonight.

I turn to look at him, and he comes up to me, laughing. "What do you mean? What is what?" I ask, looking around myself. _My tail seems to be intact._

"This." He states, pointing to my helmet. Before I can answer he rips it off my head, and I yell at him. With a chuckle, he pulls it out of my reach. "No, brother. You don't get to keep this."

"It's a perfectly fine helmet!" I argue, trying to snatch it from his grip, but he places a firm hand on my chest to keep me away. I recovered the helmet at Helgen when I returned to search for survivors. It came from one of the dead Imperials I found. I felt like they owed me something.

He tosses it into the fire and his laughter shakes the hall when he sees my face. My jaw is hanging open, my whiskers practically quivering. The leather of the helmet begins to melt beneath the flames. Farkas shoves a tankard of mead at me and tells me to lighten up. I take a swig and sit at the table for the feast.

Aela sits next to me, her eyes trained on my face. "Did someone spill your milk, cat?"

I ignore her question and down the tankard. Some of the new blood begins to brawl by the fire, and I focus my attention there, if nothing else than to ignore Aela. Even after three months she treats me like a whelp.

"Ysgramor himself wouldn't have the patience to deal with all the rabble around here," Aela mutters, grabbing a chicken breast and tossing a loaf of bread to me. I catch it without a second thought, and I catch Aela smiling out of the corner of my eye. "Good. If you're to hunt with me, your feet need to be quick, and your eyes quicker."

"Blood running hot?" I ask her, using one of her favorite lines. As I turn to see her reaction, she looks away.

"We shall see tonight."

* * *

Aela and I walk to the Underforge together in silence. Though she doesn't speak, I can feel her anticipation. Her breaths are deep as if she is sucking in air for the first time, and her eyes dance with the same light I remember from the first time I met her. _This_ undoubtedly is a hunt.

As we come up to the stone which hides the Underforge, Aela extends her hand and presses on the stone. It rolls aside silently. Aela looks back at me and grins. I've never seen her so ecstatic.

"This is it, brother." She says, stepping into the darkness.

I follow her, my heart pounding in my chest. Every hair on the back of my neck stands on end and some part of my brain is screaming for me to leave, but I ignore the warnings. I can smell the sweat and blood of a thousand Companions in the small stone chamber, every one with their own story. _Aela's mother stood in here once._ I look around, taking in the roughhewn rocks. They were cut long before my time… but the years had smoothed some of their edges. I reach out and touch a rock formation that juts out just beyond the entrance, and the stone door slides back into place.

Skjor stands beside a stone fountain just as ancient as the rocks around me. The light dances in his eyes as Aela approaches, a smile on his face. He mutters something to her, and she laughs softly. Wondering what they could be saying, I step closer. Skjor looks at me and holds out a hand.

"Wait there, brother." Skjor turns back to Aela. "Show him."

Aela nods, looking at me. Our eyes connect and for a moment I see fear in her eyes. But it flickers away, replaced by fire. She suddenly buckles and grips her ribs. A strange sound, something between a cry and a growl, escapes her lips and I jump forward to help her. Skjor is immediately in front of me, his sturdy arms gripping my shoulders.

"No, let her complete the transformation."

 _Of course, Aela is part of the Circle_. I remind myself. It doesn't make the transformation any less terrifying. Seeing Farkas transform was one thing, I was stuck in a cage… thick iron bars separated us. And Farkas liked me.

Aela's transformation scares me in a different way. I expect it. And I can't look away as her spine arches, every vertebrae visible under her skin. Fur the color of the night sky ripples over her skin, forming a mane around her neck as her shoulders expand to twice their breadth. She turns her face up and I watch as her face stretches into a snout, gray replacing her natural skin tone. My heart skips a beat as she reveals her razor sharp teeth and howls.

"Ah! You've scared the boy!" Skjor laughs, patting me on the shoulder. He walks up to werewolf-Aela and draws his dagger. "That pitiful ceremony behind the hall does not befit warriors like us. You are due more honor than some calls and feasting." He points to the werewolf beside him, "Aela has agreed to be your forebear… she's taken quite a liking to you."

Aela snorts, but her orange eyes turn to me. _He wasn't lying._

"We do this in secret because Kodlak is too busy trying to throw away this great gift we've been granted. He thinks we've been cursed." Skjor spits. "But we've been _blessed_. How can something that gives this kind of prowess be a curse?" As he poses the question, Aela growls. With a nod, Skjor continues. "So we take matters into our own hands. To reach the heights of the Companions, you must join with us in the shared blood of the wolf. Are you prepared to join your spirit with the beast world, friend?"

I stand there for a moment after he falls silent, looking between Aela and Skjor. _They truly believe this is a gift._ I look down at my hands. Furry, true, but not all beast. Glancing up, I meet Aela's eyes. Even in her beast form, they are recognizable. The same fury and fire I've seen from her in the last few months burns forth ten times brighter. But there's something else there too. I see what I had mistaken for fear earlier, and with a start I realize it wasn't fear, but a plea for understanding. For understanding her gift. Her blessing.

For seeing the beauty in something the others didn't.

" _Fusozay var var._ " I mutter, one of the old morals of the _Renrijra Krin_. _Enjoy life_. Life is not worth living without taking chances. Summoning my voice, I look at Skjor. "I accept."

He grins. "Very well." Tilting his head to Aela, he raises his blade. She give him her paw and he slashes her flesh. Blood clings to the blade and flows into the fountain. The small basin fills with the crimson liquid and I feel my stomach clench.

I approach the fountain and stand next to Aela, her warm breath ruffling my fur. When the basin is full, she retracts her hand and licks her wound. Skjor raises both hands and turns his face to the ceiling. "The blood calls Brother Ja'Kasan!"

The ends of my fingers tingle, and I feel ice in my veins. The sickly sweet scent of blood wafts up to my nostrils and the back of my throat clenches. Nausea overwhelms me for a moment, forcing me to swallow down the bile I feel bubbling up my throat. _This is insane._ I am not sure I can go through with it. _I have to drink the blood of my friend to become a werewolf._ The absurdity makes me want to laugh.

Before I can open my mouth to express my doubts, Aela nuzzles me. Her nose is damp and cold and it sends chills down my spine. But she is warm and quickly dispels the chill. Aela rests her head on my shoulder, and I can feel her heart pound beside me.

 _Gzalzi vaberzarita maaszi._ The phrase comes to me instantly, and I look at Aela. Her eyes soften at my gaze and she sighs. _Absurdity has become necessity_. These are strange times.

I raise my hands to the fountain and dip my fingers in. The warm blood clings to my fur as I bring a measure out in my cupped hands. With Aela by my side, I drink.

The taste is not as repugnant as I expected. It tastes a bit like spiced wine left too long in the sun. It has the consistency of watered-down honey, however, and drags across my tongue. I wait as I feel the blood run down my throat, not sure what to expect.

Then I fell it. A far-off pain grips my bones. I clench my teeth at the discomfort and step back from the fountain. My hands begin to shake and I find myself panting. The room pitches to the side and I am on the ground.

"Hold on, cat. The first transformation is always the worst." Skjor assures me, calmly cleaning his blade.

Fire races down my spine and I arch my back against the ground. A guttural sound is caught in my throat as I feel my bones shift. My fur bristles, growing thicker and longer. I manage to bring my hands up for a moment, reaching for the fountain to pull myself up, but I see they too have begun to change. My claws tear through the pads of my fingers, trailing blood.

" _Kaaka vaba jajo?_ " I hiss past a swelling tongue. Skjor laughs, but Aela's face appears in my vision. She sniffs me twice before using her nose to turn me onto my stomach. Here the pain is lessened, and I close my eyes to block out the grinding of my bones.

I am not sure when I open my eyes again, but I suddenly find myself running through Whiterun, the wind cutting through my thick fur to cool my feverish skin. Someone shouts, likely a guard, but I do not care.

I am _free_. My blood pumps through my veins like it never had before… and perhaps it truly never did.

I can smell everything. Every bush, every rose, I can tell exactly where the Whiterun beggar, Brenuin, is sleeping tonight. I can hear the crickets in the grass, and the mice in the Hall of the Dead. I can tell that Adrianne is not sleeping with her husband tonight, but is staying with her father in Dragonsreach.

Everything is clear. And I understand what Skjor said about this being a blessing.

I never want to change back.

A huge form appears beside me, it is Aela. She grunts and angles her head down, wanting me to hide. But I laugh, the sound traveling as a yip. Tonight there is no stopping me.

I black out as I scale the city's wall behind Warmaiden's and fling myself into the cold midnight air.

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 **A/N: The following are Ta'agra translations. I used The Ta'agra Project for translations, as they have 902 words translated (note many of these are fan and RP community created, but they fit the feel of the language. Check them out, they're pretty cool)**

 _Fusozay var var -_ Enjoy life.

 _Renrijra Krin_ \- Mercenary's Grin. Smiling Scum. The Laugh of the Landless. A slur for Khajiit and re-appropriated by a Khajiiti group by the same name.

 _Gzalzi vaberzarita maaszi_ \- Absurdity has become necessity. An idiom.

 _Kaaka vaba jajo?_ \- What is this?


	3. Tele dorr Chithoh

**Disclaimer: Not mine. You get the point.**

 **Author's note:** You thought I was lying about not being able to sleep.

Unfortunately (for me), I was not. It's 1am. I have classes. I am really angry. This will probably be posted at a normal time in the day and ya'll will think I'm insane. Fine. Whatever.

This chapter may be merged with the previous upon completion of this story. Or not. Just so I can have more titles in Ta'agra. _Talos,_ I think I have a problem.

 **Enjoy. Read. Review. Save me.**

* * *

 **Tele dorr Chithoh**

 _By the Mane…_ my mouth tastes like dirt. I can hardly open my eyes, but I force them to comply and the world spins. By sheer force of will, I keep my mead down.

Someone's hand falls on my shoulder, and I turn to squint at them. It is Aela, who is kneeling beside me. The light from her torch casts jagged shadows over her face. Her eyes dart between mine and she has her bottom lip between her teeth. "Are you awake?"

I manage to nod, and she extends a hand to pull me up. Taking it, I allow her to do most of the work, as my legs feel like jelly. When I stand, I feel the cold air nip at my back and I wrap my arms around myself. My clothes are missing.

Aela, however, is fully dressed with a bag at her feet. _My bag_. While my eyes are drawn to the object, Aela continues. "I was starting to think you might never come back." Her voice shakes for a moment. I look at her, an eyebrow raised, but she coughs and recovers. "Yours was not an easy transformation. But you're alive, so congratulations."

I laugh, feeling the absurdity rush back. "Thanks. What just happened?"

"You were born into the pack, brother. I almost envy you. That first time is always the most…" she sucks in a breath and shivers, " _intense_. You gave us even more trouble than Farkas did at his first turning."

"Huh, really?" I smirk, somehow that knowledge makes me proud. "Did I do anything I'll come to regret?"

Aela's face mirrors my own, her amusement is obvious. "Besides standing in front of me naked? No." She kicks my bag toward me. "Now dress you damn fool. I have a celebration planned."

I dig through my bag and pull out my armor. As I slip it on, I turn away from her. "Where are we going?"

"There's a pack of werewolf hunters camped nearby, at Gallows Rock. The Silver Hand. I think you've met." Aela answers, and I laugh. The Silver Hand were a pitiful group when Farkas and I ran into them. "We're going to slaughter them. All of them."

Her words stop me. She spoke them without humor or regret… she must have sensed my apprehension because she places a hand on my shoulder. "They will kill us. Hunt us down without a second thought. Skjor's already scouting ahead. He's… _we're_ counting on you."

"The Silver Hand," I say, turning to face her, "what do they really want? Eradication or a cure?"

She narrows her eyes at me. "You know the answer." Aela turns away and begins walking toward a crumbling fortress in the distance. "As for a cure? _Hah_. This isn't a curse. There's nothing to cure."

I have to jog to catch up with her. "I never said it was. I was just curious if there was a cure."

The laugh that comes from her is bitter, tinged with conversations and arguments I am not privy to. "You sound like the old man. I…" she frowns, "shouldn't say that. I love Kodlak. I respect and follow him."

I don't know if she's trying to convince me, or herself. But it's too late to ask, I can see the Silver Hand patrolling the crumbling ramparts of the old fort. I draw my bow and Aela does the same. In a matter of seconds, the outside of Gallows Rock is silent save for our footsteps.

"What is this place?" I mutter, kicking one of the Silver Hand's corpses.

As I search the bodies for anything valuable, Aela picks the lock on the solid oak door leading into Gallows Rock. "Old fort. Abandoned for years. They're like jackals, making their home anywhere they can find." She pauses. "What've you found?"

"A couple healing potions, some gold, oh! This one's got a key!"

"Toss it here."

I continued searching after giving her the key. "What are these swords good for anyway? I've never seen any like them."

"Good against the undead, I hear." Aela says as the door clicks. "Come on, grab what you need and let's go. Anything you want we can come back for once we've cleared this place out."

I snatch a silver sword and smirk. "I think I want this as a souvenir."

She snorts, pushing the door open. "Only you, Ja'Kasan." The moment her feet hit the stone inside, she crouches low and I mimic her. "Gods, look at this place." She mutters as we pass into the first room. An iron gate blocks our progress forward. "Cowards must have locked the place down after Skjor charged in. You can taste the fear."

I nod, inspecting the wall next to the gate. A lever is hidden behind a mounted shield. The gate rattles back into the ceiling once I pull the lever. Shouts sound from the next hallway.

"I think they know we're here." I whisper.

Aela rolls her eyes and draws her bow. "In front, whelp. I've got your back."

My sword slides out of its sheath as I pad my way forward. I feel no fear, confident in my own abilities and the word of Aela. She's never let me down before.

As I round a corner, three Silver Hand come into view. All are charging at me, so I stand up straight and suck in a breath. " _FUS RO!"_

The first two stumble back and I sprint forward. Before the first can raise her shield, I stab her through her exposed stomach. _Never did understand fur armor that doesn't cover your torso_. As she crumples I withdraw my sword in time to block a blow from the second Silver Hand's axe. A torrent of fire sweeps past me and I yell in pain as it burns my right side. The third Silver Hand is a wizard.

An arrow appears in the neck of the Silver Hand in front of me. He chokes, his hands dropping his axe to clutch at his throat. I end his suffering with a quick blow to the back of his neck.

"Beast!" The remaining Silver Hand bellows. I round on him, and he extends his arms. With a roar, I charge past his spell, ignoring the flames as they singe my fur, and slash through his robes. He falls with a cry for mercy.

" _Rishajiit_ _renrij_." I spit, bringing my sword down on his head. He falls silent.

Aela ghosts up behind me, a health potion extended in one hand. I shake off the offering, weaving a basic healing spell over myself. "What did you call him?" She asks.

"Wizard scum." I answer, testing my sword arm. The spell didn't seem to have done any permanent damage.

"You say ' _renrij_ ' often."

Kicking the wizard over, I check him for anything useful. "It means ruffian or scum." _Just some gold,_ I scoff at the dead Silver Hand. "One of my favorite words."

"But you call yourself—" Aela begins.

I cut her off, knowing what she will ask. "I call myself _renrijra_ on occasion, which has a similar meaning. But more like 'honorable scum'. It comes from the old _Ahzirr Traajijazeri_ , a manifesto of the _Renrijra Krin_. 'The Mercenary's Grin'. 'The Smiling Scum'. I think it's funny."

We creep forward once more, but neither of us put our weapons away.

"The…"

" _Renrijar Krin._ "

"Yes. The _Renrijar Krin_ ," her attempt to pronounce the Ta'agra words is adorable. She draws every syllable out and rolls the sound around on her tongue before finally spitting it out. "Isn't that the Khajiit group that opposes the Empire?"

I stiffen at her words. From an outsider point-of-view, that is all the _Renrijar Krin_ is… or _was_. But the group had become something different. It became a way to interact with the other races and announce our sovereignty. An extended family throughout Tamriel.

"In… a way." I reply. I do not know how to convey it to her. "But… we are more than that. We are a broad family tree that spans all of Tamriel."

"Like the Companions… but bigger and with less mead." Aela muses. I can't help but laugh. My laughter freezes in my throat when we reach the next room.

I can _smell_ it, but I can't see it. Something is dead. Or rather, _someone_ is dead. I straighten up and search the room, but Aela beats me to it.

"Here." She points to a locked door. "The key doesn't work—"

"Move aside." I command, pulling my lockpicks out. The door is open in seconds. As it swings open, I gag and turn away. A werewolf is nailed to the fall wall of the small chamber, held in place by his right arm. I didn't need more than a second to see that his entrails had been cut out and discarded on the floor. The stench is overpowering with my combined senses.

"There's a dead one, isn't there?" Aela asks, placing a hand on my back and walking around me. I hear her take a deep breath, but she does not react as I do. Her voice is flat, emotionless. "Thought so. Nobody we know, by the smell. Some can't separate the animal for themselves. Go feral." She sounds clinical, as if she is diagnosing the dead werewolf.

I have to walk toward the new hall, I can't breathe.

"This poor sod could have been anyone… We should keep moving." Aela mutters.

I close my eyes and lean against the wall, feeling the cool stone beneath my fingertips. Aela puts her hand on my cheek and forces my head down. I open my eyes to look at her. "It's not you. You're right here."

Nodding, I take a deep breath. The stench is lesser here.

"Kasan, look at me." She drops the honorific from my name and runs her hand through my fur to the back of my neck. "Take a deep breath. You've faced dragons, remember?" Aela laughs and reaches for my hand. I surrender it to her and she brings it up to my chest. "Feel that?" My heartbeat thrums through my fingers. "You're still here. You're right here."

She doesn't let me see the dead werewolves in next chamber. Once we kill the four Silver Hand where they sat at a long table, Aela continues to the hallway. But I can still smell death.

"No one we knew." She murmurs to me. "There wasn't anything we could do."

"I know… I just don't even want to think about what those…" I shake my head.

A few hours ago I was just a Khajiit. Still scum and still hated, but at least given a chance. Would this be how my life ended? Hunted and tortured to satisfy some crusading sadists? Maybe this is what Kodlak sees in the beast blood: an impending death at the hands of irreverent fools.

Aela slows me as we reach a door at the end of the hall. "We're getting close now, I can smell them."

I take a deep breath and I can too, the stench of warrior sweat is overpowering… but underneath it… there's _something_ more. Something vaguely familiar. I glance at Aela to see if she's smelled it too, but she gives no indication.

 _Skjor's been down this way_.

"Be careful, their leader is a tricky one. They call him 'the Skinner'… I don't think I need to tell you why." Aela whispers, notching an arrow in her bow.

I take the shield from my back and heft my sword. My amulet of Talos clanks against my chest plate as I ease the door open. It takes the Silver Hand a moment to realize we're there… a moment too long for two of them. Aela brings them down with swift arrows, as I charge an Argonian in the corner. She hisses and raises her shield to block.

" _YOL TOOR!"_ I release Fire Breath on the bandit, and she shrieks in surprise. Flames dance over her fur armor as I cut into her shoulder with my sword. The Argonian manages to bring her sword up and strikes a glancing blow on my forearm before I bash her with my shield. As she stumbles back, I disarm her. A deep cut across her chest finishes her.

I whirl around to face the room once more. Aela is fending off the remaining two Silver Hand with her shield and dagger, ducking underneath wide swipes from a Nord with a silver greatsword. She slips inside the Nord's defenses and stabs him between the chinks in his armor. The Nord falls back in surprise, but before Aela can finish him, the Skinner kicks her. Aela's knee buckles for a moment and I rush to her aid.

The Skinner raises his arms and kicks her again, this time sending Aela flailing. I run up behind him and wrap my arms around his neck. He cries out in shock, and I put my mouth close to his ear to deliver his epitaph. "To Oblivion with you, _renrij_." I twist my hands and feel his neck snap beneath them.

As he falls, I stride over to the last Silver Hand and raise my sword. I give him a quick death… something he does not deserve. Aela appears beside me, a smile on her face. "Good work, Ja'Kasan."

I turn from her, I do not feel the same joy. Something like dread weighs in my heart. The room is too quiet as I begin to search the bodies. Aela walks past me to the raised platform at the back of the room. I hear her sharp intake of breath and the curse that follows.

"The bastards… somehow they managed to kill Skjor." Her voice catches and I stand to look at her. She kneels beside a body, unmistakably Skjor's. As I approach the two of them, I see her fists clench. Tears shine in her eyes. "He should not have come without a Shield-Brother." Shaky hands prop Skjor within Aela's grasp. She presses him close to her chest and bows her head.

I crouch next to her and put a hand on her shoulder. Her whole body shakes. "Aela…"

"Go! Get out of here." Aela shouts, her tone clipped. "I'm going to make sure every one of them is dead." She makes no move to stand or do as she says, only brings Skjor closer.

"And the Silver Hand will tremble at our sight." I sit, putting an arm around her. She leans into me and without seeing her face I know she is crying. "But Ja'Kasan wants to remember our friend for a moment." I say, earning a choked laugh. I never refer to myself in the third person in Cyrodilic.

Silence falls between us for several minutes before I speak again, muttering in Ta'agra. " _Ra'Skjor vabera do trevan an rakiit. Hirsinith wo zeto, ri'sallidad._ "

Aela doesn't ask what I say, I think she knows. Instead, she repeats the last word, _honored dead_. It's a concept both she and I, Nord and Khajiit, understand. " _Ri'sallidad._ "

* * *

We carry Skjor home on his shield. Like countless Companions before him. It feels right to give him this last honor. The journey takes the better part of a day. After clearing Gallows Rock of Silver Hand and searching for clues, we both are left thirsty for revenge.

As we walk through the streets of Whiterun, the citizens can only gasp.

"What happened?"

"By the Nine, is that a Companion?"

"It's Skjor, by Talos!"

Their voices upset Aela, but she doesn't let it show. She grips the shield tighter, leaving her knuckles white. Holding her head high, she leads the way through the streets. I stare down anyone who comes too close and snarl. I don't want to answer their questions either. With the gossip in Whiterun, they will all know by tomorrow anyway.

When we reach Jorrvaskr, Aela and I lower Skjor to the ground. By now there is a crowd forming in the Wind District, murmuring like ladies in court. I take Skjor in my arms as Aela opens the door to Jorrvaskr. The Companions deserve privacy as we prepare our dead.

A cheer rings out when Aela steps into the hall. Praise for the hunt, disguised congratulations for my transformation, and tankards are raised into the air. Then, as soon as it started, the cheers stop. I find every eye on me and the man I carry as Aela shuts the door behind me.

Farkas stands closest to me, his jaw hanging open. His brother, Vilkas, stands beside him and clenches his fists. I scan the room for Kodlak and find him standing behind the fire, his eyes reflecting the glow.

"Ra'Skjor is dead." I announce, meeting his eyes. "Killed by the Silver Hand."

Farkas flings a bowl against the wall, shattering it. "This shouldn't have happened. He shouldn't… I told him not to go alone."

Kodlak steps forward, gesturing to Vilkas. The younger Nord comes forward and takes Skjor from my arms. Kodlak puts both hands on my shoulders and holds me at arm's length for a moment. Then he wraps his arms around me in a hug. It is the first time I cry for my Shield-Brother.

"This is a day where our souls must cry, and our hearts will answer." Kodlak says, breaking the embrace but keeping a firm hand on my shoulder. "Go. Grieve in whatever way you know."

He walks away, following Vilkas and Skjor's body into the twilight of the yard. Aela squeezes my hand before following. Most of the Companions in the hall trail behind, but Farkas pulls me aside. He holds a helmet in his hands: dark gray steel that wraps forward to mimic a wolf's jawbone.

"To replace your old one." Farkas explains, placing it on my head. "Skjor had one just like it."

* * *

 **A/N: The following are Ta'agra translations.**

 _Tele_ _dorr Chithoh_ \- A Place for Hanging. Literally: place for no breathing (Ta'agra does not have a word for "breathe", so the word for air, _chi_ , is converted to a verb and inverted). This title refers to "Gallows Rock".

 _Rishajiit renrij_ \- Wizard scum. Does not follow proper grammar for using a noun as an adjective. I chose to do this for readability.

 _Renrij_ \- Scum, bandit, ruffian.

 _Renrijra_ \- Defined by Ja'Kasan as "honorable scum". It's the word "scum" with the status honorific "ra".

 _Ahzirr Traajijazeri_ \- We Justly Take By Force, also the public manifesto of the _Renrijra Krin_.

 _Ra'Skjor vabera do trevan an rakiit. Hirsinith wo zeto, ri'sallidad. -_ Skjor was a good friend and warrior. Hunt with honor, martyr. Ja'Kasan assigns Skjor the honorific "ra" here to raise his status as a sign of respect. _Rakiit_ means soldier, though it is also applied to warrior. _Ri'sallidad_ is literally "honored dead".

Next time: Ja'Kasan recounts his time away from the Companions. But in the end, all must come home.


	4. Dar'Garnok, Drelkamerliter

**Disclaimer: Not mine. Yada yada.**

 **Author's note:** I'm gonna be so happy when this is done.

I've fallen behind the last two days so the next update will be a day or so late. Sorry.

Thank you to my followers and reviewers. This story is now nearly complete, so if you like this story, pass it around (I know most authors who complete things like this will wait a week between posting completed chapters, but not me. Not this time. So this story will slowly sink to the nothingness realm where completed stories end up in the browsing list).

I explain some stuff at the end. There's little section headers at the end so you can jump to what you care about (or skip it altogether).

 **Enjoy. Read. Review.**

* * *

 **Dar'Garnok, Drelkamerliter**

The rain soaks through my cloak and seeps down to my skin. I can't stop shivering, but I push on. _I want to be home_. Lightning cracks across the sky and every hair on my body stands on end. Pulling my cloak tighter, I bow my head against the rain and stumble along the path.

I haven't been to Whiterun in nearly a year. I can't quite remember how the path goes… So much has happened…

* * *

 _30_ _th_ _of Sun's Dusk_

After Skjor's death, I have to leave Whiterun. Get out of the city. See the world. I leave a note behind for Aela, but I do not speak with her. I know she will be mad with me for leaving without saying good-bye, but I cannot face her grief in addition to my own. If I run into any Silver Hand, I will send her their swords. As souvenirs.

On my way out of the city, I buy a set of black robes from the caravan master, Ri'saad. Once again, I pay a lofty price. "Was there anything else, or is our transaction complete?"

I glance over my shoulder at the rising sun. Its weak beams warm my fur, but I am hit with a wave of nostalgia for my home country, "Do you miss Elseweyr?"

Ri'saad sighs. "You feel the homesickness too in these cold months."

"Yes, and I long for the simplicity of home."

At this he chuckles, "The sand is warm and the moonsugar plentiful. There are no dragons nor war. Who would guess that Khajiit homeland would seem so peaceful?"

"Moonsugar!" I grin, pulling a small pouch out of my pocket. "Ja'Kasan might have forgotten if not for you," with such a deal in mind I tease him by speaking in third person, "I want to trade this for work."

Ri'saad narrows his eyes, but his hand creeps toward the pouch of moonsugar. "You wish to pay me… so you may work?"

"I wish to travel with your caravan. I will work for whatever you see fit, and travel to nearby caves and hideouts to return with goods to sell."

"Very well." Ri'saad takes the pouch from my hands. "Sit, you have much to learn."

* * *

 _27_ _th_ _of First Seed_

"Are you sure you do not wish to stay, Ja'Kasan?" Kharjo asks, his eyes glowing in the darkness.

I shrug my shoulders, pulling my hood over my head. After four months with the caravans, journeying across Skyrim on my own will feel lonely. Ri'saad passed me off to Ahkari's band after a month or so and with her I came to know Kharjo. He is an odd fellow, a Khajiit older than his years. But he is loyal. After spending so much time with Nords, it was good to live among Khajiit brethren.

"I've been to nearly every hold, but I've still to enter the cities." I laugh.

Kharjo rubs his mane while he mocks me. "Ah yes, _Dovahkiin_ may enter cities. _Dovahkiin_ scares guards with his shouts."

"Just the once," I argue. "Besides, I hear Riften has a soft-spot for thieves and _renrijra_ like me."

He laughs and extends his hand. "I will miss that _thjizlipith_."

"Be safe on the roads." I reply, clanking my hand against his chest.

"And may your path lead you to warm sands."

I smile and turn toward the road to Riften. I reach the city in the dead of night, the guard is easily bribed to let me through. Once inside, I hear music and smell mead. Following my senses, I come to _The_ _Bee and the Bard_ , a tavern. The door shrieks on its unoiled hinges, announcing my presence. A few patrons turn to look at me, but most are either wailing with the bard in the corner or focused on a brawl in the center of the floor.

Skirting the crowd gathered around the fighters, I make my way to the bar. A female Argonian smiles at me, her pale scales reflecting the torchlight. "What'll it be, cat?"

"I hear this is the place to get Black-Briar Mead!" I shout over the ruckus.

"You heard right!" She pulls out a bottle and I pass her my coin.

I take a drink and point at the fight. A young Orc and a Nord throw punches at each other, but neither seem to take or receive any real damage. "What's going on?"

"Ah, just the usual Loredas crowd. We let them sock it out of each other, it's easier than calling the guards every damn time."

"Do they have an issue with each other?" I ask as the Orc lands a blow on the Nord's shoulder.

"See the Orc, there?" The Argonian asks, pointing a long finger at the brawlers. "His name is Garnok gro-Burish. From the Largashbur stronghold. He can't go back there thanks to the Nord."

"Why? What happened?"

"The Nord's a guard in town, Regus the Broad. He held Garnok in prison for several days on trumped up charges. By the time Garnok got out, his stronghold had been sealed tight."

I frown. "Sealed?"

"Something's happenin' in Largashbur. No one's been in or out of it in months." The Argonian says.

 _An Orc stronghold sealed? I know they don't allow outsiders, but barring even their own people?_ I down my mead in one swallow and buy another, watching the brawl.

Garnok is lean for an Orc and wears blue robes rather than armor. Massive tusks jut from his jaw. His forearms are covered by scaled bracers and he swings wide with his arms as if he is trying to hit his opponent with the metal cuffs. When the Nord, Regus, jabs Garnok in the ribcage, the Orc roars and slams both fists into Regus' chest. The Nord falls over and the tavern bursts into cheers.

"No one bests an Orc!" Garnok cries, raising both arms in victory.

I know I shouldn't, but the _renrij_ in me wants to take the kid down a peg. "Oh yeah?" I call over the crowd. Garnok frowns, meeting my eyes. The tavern falls quiet. "I'll cover your entire tab for the night if you best me."

Garnok laughs. I realize his voice hasn't even found its base register yet. "What's the catch?"

"No catch." I reply, standing from my spot at the bar. The crowd parts so I can approach. "You win. I pay." A smile creeps over my face. "And when I win, you take me to Largashbur."

"No one goes to Largashbur." He growls, his eyes narrowing.

"Then win and you have nothing to worry about." I say, shaking my hood off my head. I raise my fists. "What do you say?"

Garnok grins. "Let's fight!"

He throws the first punch, aiming for my head. I duck under his fist and jab his elbow. The Orc yells in surprise, leaving me an opening to swipe at his face. My knuckles connect with his jaw and he stumbles back, blinking like an idiot.

" _Kud, ma'Drelkamer!_ " I taunt. I can tell he doesn't understand my insult, but he furrows his brow regardless.

His next punch connects, and I can hardly feel my left shoulder. Opening my hand, I swipe at him, grazing my claws across his face. Garnok swings and I catch his fist between my forearms. He yanks it back, but I slam my fist into his throat before he can swing again. I jab him several times in the stomach and chest while he tries to regain his breath.

I've pushed him back to a table, and he grabs the edge. With a snarl, I punch him in the nose, his cartilage crunching under the force my fist. Blood bursts forth and he raises a hand to block my next blow. I grab his arm and fling him across the circle formed by the crowd, where he crashes into a chair and falls onto his back. He does not get up.

The crowd remains silent for a few seconds before bursting into a cheer. I extend my hand to Garnok and he takes it. When he stands, he is smiling through the blood gushing from his nose. "What a fight!" He holds a wrist to his face to staunch the blood and turns to one of the crowd. "Do ya think he scarred me?"

"Well your face doesn't look any better."

"Fantastic!" Garnok takes my hand and shakes it. "Malacath will be pleased."

I remember once hearing that Orcs give self-worth based on battles fought and scars earned. At the time I assumed it was nothing more than Nord stereotypes, but maybe it held some truth. As the crowd disperses to listen to the bard, the Orc and I are left standing in the center of the floor.

"Will you honor our deal?" I ask.

Garnok claps me on the shoulder. "Come now, cat. An Orc is nothing without his word. Let me buy you a drink. We can hammer out the details over some good mead."

"I warn you, I'm a Companion." I say as he hands gold to the bartender.

He only laughs. "Then you can hold your swill. I am Garnok gro-Burish, the Boar Child. What do they call you?"

"Kasan. Ja'Kasan."

* * *

 _20_ _th_ _of Mid Year_

Garnok scrunches his nose and mimics the Riften guard's Nord accent. "Stay out of the Ratway. Stay out of the Ragged Flagon." His feet are kicked up on an upturned barrel in the very tavern we were supposed to avoid. He laughs at his own joke, his voice echoing off the high walls of the sewer.

I smile and sip my cider. After restoring Largashbur in the eyes of Malacath, Garnok wanted to train with me. The Orc is young and resorts to violence to get his way, but I see a lot of potential in him. And like all Orcs, he's loyal. In fights he can hold his own, he proved this when we faced the giant that had been tormenting his home, and he has a knack for finding things. That's how we ended up in the Flagon.

As the Thieves Guild's newest recruits we are nothing more than lackeys. Errand boys. But the coin is good and the jobs are easy. No one gets hurt and if we spend a night in jail, it's a learning experience. The Guild favors us as a team because I am "sneak-thief Khajiit" and I have pull in various holds as a Companion. The Nord guards have an intrinsic respect for Garnok. His Orc blood makes him the least likely suspect in burglary jobs.

"Oy! Feet off the tables." Delvin yells, coming up to us and shoving Garnok's feet from the barrel. "Have some respect for the Flagon, would'ja?"

Garnok's ears turn red as he plays with a pocket on his Guild armor. "Yes, sir." He mutters, not looking up at Delvin.

I laugh at him and turn to the elder Guildsmen. "Got work for us?"

Devlin grins. "How'dya feel about'n easy job in Whiterun?"

"I don't _do_ jobs in Whiterun." I growl.

"Ah, that's _right_ ," Delvin sneers and places a hand on my shoulder, "don't want your Companion buddies knowin' you're wid us now."

"Come off it." I shove his hand off, standing to meet his eyes.

"Look, the Guild needs this job done," Delvin jabs a finger into my chest. "Just steal enough product t'get noticed. From anywhere'n the hold. Don't even hafta go'n the city."

"We'll do it." Garnok interrupts. I glare at Garnok, but he avoids my eyes and drags me aside. "You can't keep avoiding the hold. We can hardly reach half of Skyrim because you're squeamish about the damn Whiterun hold."

"I don't-"

"Yeah, whatever." Garnok taps my wolf helmet. "You say you're a part of the Companions, you've got their blood, but you never go by." I set my jaw, but he continues. "Afraid your pack will know you let me in on their secret?"

"I should've never told you." I mutter, crossing my arms and looking across the water. When we started traveling together I avoided transforming around Garnok, slipping away in the middle of the night to hunt when my blood ran too hot. But when we ran into a small group of Silver Hand near Dark Water Crossing, I lost it. Transformed in front of him and slaughtered the Silver Hand scum. I thought he would kill me in my beast form.

But he didn't. When the Silver Hand were dead, he sat on the ground and waited for me to revert back to my Khajiit form. Said he understood when I explained Hircine's blessing.

"People think we Orcs are evil for worshipping Malacath. But he's just a different power," Garnok had explained, "just like Hircine."

From then on he hunted with me on nights when the moon was full. Every silver blade we found was sent to Aela in Whiterun. He figured out the Circle's true nature on his own, but I hadn't corrected him.

"But you did. And I can play dumb," Garnok says. "Besides, don't you want to see that girl of yours? Aela?"

"She's not my… _'girl'_." I argue. "Aela was my forebear."

"And Volendrung is just a hammer." Garnok scoffs, gesturing to the massive weapon on his back. "We're doing this job."

"Fine, but we're not entering Whiterun." I start toward the exit. "And you owe me as much Honningbrew Mead as I can drink."

"I thought you learned your lesson when—"

"It was a daedric prince! Alright?"

* * *

 _28_ _th_ _of Mid Year_

Garnok tosses an apple in the air and catches it in his mouth. Taking a bite, he muses about our other finds. "You know," he crunches, "if the Guild just started snatching every food store from citizens in the hold, people would start paying attention."

"Yeah, well it's harder to run off with forty-three apples, five cheese wheels, and two leeks than some jewelry and weapons." I say, snatching the apple from his grasp. "It's a lot easier to fence uneaten things, too."

The kid grumbles, but closes his bag of stolen food and hefts it over his shoulder. "Think we did enough?"

"I hope so. I think we cleared every meager town of valuables… or at least food." I lift my iron armor off the ground and toss my Guild armor aside. "Now come on, get out of that armor. We don't need to freak out any guards on the trek back."

"But I like—"

"Change!" I yell, throwing his fur armor at him. After a few minutes we're ready to go. If we follow our course correctly, we should reach the Honningbrew Meadery before nightfall and Garnok can make good on his promise.

As we walk, Garnok tells one of the old Orc tales, weaving it into the political situation of today. Honor, valor, glory in battle… two brothers siding with opposite factions… the grief of the older when he finds his younger brother slain on the battlefield… I try to listen, but my mind wanders to Gallows Rock and the Companions. _Would they show the same grief for me?_

We reach the meadery ahead of schedule, and spend the night drunk under the stars. By morning we've wandered to Ivarstead. Unable to walk any further, we collapse in the inn. The next day we stumble through the forest, Garnok and I trying to teach each other Orsimer and Khajiit traveling songs. The bags of stolen loot weigh on our shoulders, though somewhat lighter than when we started off. The owner of Honningbrew Meadery is a decent fence, though he lacked coin when we reached him.

When we break for lunch, I smell them. _Farkas and Aela_. I immediately stand up upon catching their scent, and wait for them to come into view. An elk bursts through the underbrush a few measures in front of us, an arrow in its side. A moment later it falls to the ground, and I see three more arrows jutting out of its neck.

"Almost lost that one!" Farkas' voice calls out from further in the trees. His familiar face comes into view and I can already see his smile. "JA'KASAN!" He shouts, charging toward me.

I have three seconds to brace myself for his bear hug. Once off the ground, I hear my spine pop. He sets me down and brushes me off. "It's good to see you too, brother." I say.

Aela strides up behind him, her face expressionless. My heart flutters in my chest. It's been a long time, but she hasn't changed. Her war paint is faded and smudged, the two of them have been out on the hunt for several days. She avoids my eyes and stands beside Farkas.

Farkas looks beyond me, his eyes falling on Garnok. "And who is this?"

Garnok extends a hand. "Garnok gro-Burish of Largashbur. It's an honor to meet you, Companion."

"Likewise." Farkas pauses. "Did you say gro-Burish? Son of Burish the Boar?"

"Yes, sir."

"Tell me, is he still alive?"

Garnok shakes his head.

"Unfortunate. He knew how to fight."

"You knew him?"

Farkas laughs. "I once had to travel with him from Markarth to Windhelm. A journey to never repeat…."

As Farkas and Garnok cross tales of Garnok's father, I try to catch Aela's eye. For several minutes, she remains focused on the conversation, before finally glancing at me. I smile at her, wishing we could speak in private. She seems to read my mind, pulling me aside.

"Aela, how are—"

"What do you think you're doing here?" Aela demands, cutting me short.

I'm at a loss for words, my tongue frozen in place.

She glares at me and I can see the firelight dancing in them. "It's been _seven months_ , Ja'Kasan." Her voice softens. "It's time to come home."

My tongue loosens but I have no words for her. Instead, I look down at my feet.

"Ja'Kasan… Skjor is dead… you can't pretend he isn't…" She lays her hand on my arm, using the other to cup my chin. "I know you've been bringing the battle to the Silver Hand, friend."

The corner of my mouth curls up and she runs her thumb over my lip. "You've been getting the swords?"

Aela chuckles. "They line the Underforge and Skjor's grave."

"Good," I say, tilting my head up to look at her. She smirks and leans forward, causing my heart to leap. But she only brushes the fur on my cheek before sitting back on her heels.

"Ja'Kasan!" I turn my head to Farkas, who calls. Aela and I quickly separate. Farkas, the ice-brain he is, continues as if he noticed nothing (which he probably didn't). "When are you returning home, brother? The others ask after you."

I shrug and glance at Garnok. The Orc shakes his head, I know what he thinks. _He thinks I should go back, too. I am not sure_ he _is ready to be a Companion._ "I do not know, _liter_. I feel my hunt is not over."

"What are you hunting for? Perhaps we can help." Farkas offers.

Aela snorts beside me and mutters under her breath. "I _swear_ the ice-brain is only getting worse."

I pretend not to hear. "I do not think this hunt is something you can help with."

Farkas frowns. "There are rumors, Ja'Kasan. Be careful."

 _What rumors?_ I wonder. Before I can ask, Garnok claps his hands. "Meeting you both was an honor. Unfortunately, Ja'Kasan and I must continue in our travels. We must reach Riften before first light Fredas."

"Forgive us for delaying you," Aela says, crossing in front of me. "Come Farkas." She glances back as the two of them leave. "I hope the hunting goes well, brother."

* * *

 _17_ _th_ _of Sun's Dusk_

A twig snaps outside my tent. My eyes fly open, my whole body rigid. I hold my breath for a moment, listening for other movement. There is a muffled yelp and then the unmistakable sound of steel rattling from its sheathe.

"What is… Kasan! Get up!" Garnok cries from his tent.

I fling myself out of the folds of the fabric, plunging into the darkness of the night. " _YOL!"_ I shout, flames spiraling from my tongue. The dying embers of the fire catch light and illuminate eight figures in the moonlight. _Bandits_. My eyes catch sight of my dog, dead, at the edge of our campsite.

With a roar, I launch myself at the nearest scoundrel. " _Baliji takarr a teko'i kha'jay? Thjizrenrija!"_ I don't know where my sword has gone, so I claw at his eyes. The bandit shrieks and drops his weapon, a dagger. _This will have to do_ , I think to myself as I disembowel him.

I turn to see Garnok raise Volendrung over his head. The weapon crushes the skull of one of the bandits, but his slow swing leaves him vulnerable. An arrow pierces his shoulder, and the Orc bellows. He swings his hammer to the side and catches another bandit in the ribs. The cretin tries to stand, but Garnok is on top of him in a blink. Three arrows cut through the leather on Garnok's back, but he doesn't slow.

Two bandits come up behind him and slam him to the ground. Before I can take a step toward his aid, a bandit tackles me. All I manage to do is scratch him.

"Garnok!" I yell, desperately trying to fling the bandit off of me. Garnok twists under his captor's grasps, but steel glints in the firelight. Panic grips me. My beast blood runs hot, and I begin to change. What was once a painful experience, now pumps my body with adrenaline. The bandit on top of me shrieks in surprise as my muscles ripple beneath him. As my fur grows long and my muscles tighten, the other bandits can only stare at me.

Fully transformed, I roar and charge at those holding Garnok. A quick swipe of my claws sweeps them off their feet. Garnok reaches up and uses my mane as leverage. He spits blood from his mouth and clutches Volendrung.

"Vicious scum." Garnok growls, throwing himself at the closest pair.

I take two others, snapping one's collarbone in my jaws. The second I throw into a nearby tree. His body falls to the ground with a wet _crunch_.

Garnok yells behind me, and I whirl around. The side of his chest is torn open, blood soaking his armor. But he fights on. The three bandits surround him, every one bloodied. He smashes Volendrung into the closest one, and the bandit does not stand. I pounce on one, my claws sinking deep into her chest. She sputters as her lungs fill with blood, but I hold on tight, crushing her ribs.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see the last bandit nick Garnok's heel. The Orc rounds on him, pulls the arrow from his shoulder, and stabs the bandit in the eye with it. The bandit screams. Garnok raises Volendrung one last time and crushes the bandit.

As the bandit falls, Garnok stumbles back. I rush to his side, barely catching him before he falls to the ground. This close to him, I see his injuries are far worse than I thought. Trapped in my beast form, I cannot help him.

A whimper escapes my lips. _Not again._

Garnok laughs, placing a bloody hand on my face. "No, Kasan. This… this is glorious… When I was a small one… Malacath showed… showed me a vision." He smiles, his eyes closing. "A glorious death… honorable… I fought with fury… wielding his weapon… I kept pace with Hircine's warrior." I can feel his body shivering. Garnok opens his eyes and looks at the stars. "Do… do you think your people… would have called me brother?"

I snort an affirmation. _The Companions would have been proud to have you among them._

He laughs, but his voice his weak. Garnok's hand slips from my cheek; I doubt he notices. "Don't… don't let them know I… was Dar'Garnok."

 _Thief Garnok. There was no shame in how you served the Thieves Guild. You were cunning and strong. Restoring honor to a once great people. Outsiders, like you and me. But I know your clan would not like it. I will not tell them._ I bow my head and place it on his chest.

"I bet you h-h-have some profound… wo… words to say. Doncha? Th-this is killing you." Garnok laughs. "Well… it's—" he chokes, his fingers flounder for a hold on my fur. "It's _killing_ me, too."

I laugh, a yip in my throat. He seems satisfied by this, because he sighs. I look up to see his eyes losing their light.

" _Home_ , Ja'Kasan." Garnok closes his eyes. He does not stir again.

I raise my head and howl.

" ** _Be still, beast._** " A voice echoes over the trees. I recognize it. _Malacath._ The daedra chuckles. " ** _Very good. I was afraid you might forget me._** "

Standing, I feel the beast blood fading from my veins.

 _" **You have proven your usefulness before, and took care of my child, Garnok. Return him home to Largashbur. I will grant you the strength and speed you need.**_ "

I fumble in the near darkness of my tent for my pack and armor. When I've thrown on my armor, I strap my sword to my hip and hang Volendrung across my back. I search every bandit for a clue as to why they were here, but come up empty. _Wrong place. Wrong time._ I scoop Garnok's body up in my arms and start to walk.

Malacath did not lie. The sun has only begun to peek above the mountains when I reach the walls of Largashbur. The stronghold is already awake, and the gates open at my presence. The new chief, Gularzob, greets me inside the walls, his eyes locked on Garnok's body.

"This is a sad day." The chief mutters.

"Garnok gro-Burish, the Boar Child, is dead. We were ambushed in the dead of night by _renrij..._ bandits. His hands fell five." I declare. "By Malacath's strength I have brought him home."

* * *

 _1_ _st_ _of Evening Star_

The Orcs let me stay for a week after Garnok's death. I may be one of the first outsiders to have witnessed an Orc funeral. Initially there was sadness, but Orcs do not dwell on deaths such as Garnok's with heavy hearts. After two days of mourning, the stronghold celebrated. I was prompted to tell every battle story I knew of, detailing Garnok's valor. I told of his last battle once, and the Orcs did not push me. They could see I did not grieve in the same way they did. Had I desired, I could have remained as long as I wanted. I was Blood-Kin now. But I declined their offer of fire and food.

I visited the Thieves Guild next, to inform them of Garnok's demise. There we drank until we could not see straight. I broke out a bottle of Skooma and pouches of moonsugar to ease the pain. Brynjolf tried to get me to stay longer, offering me work and women nearby. But once again, I had to leave. Always running home.

My knuckles rap against the door of Jorrvaskr. I don't have the strength to open it.

Farkas appears at the door, his eyebrows raised. When he realizes it is me, his face breaks into a smile. "Ja'Kasan! You are home!"

"Yes, Farkas. It finally seems so."

* * *

 **A/N: The following are Ta'agra translations**

 _Dar'Garnok, Drelkamerliter_ \- Cunning Garnok, Orc brother. _Drelkamer_ literally means "metal elf".

 _Renrijra -_ (You probably recognize this one by now) honorable scum.

 _thjizlipith_ \- foolish tongue. Kharjo is making fun of Ja'Kasan's love of the phrase _renrijra_ and his tendency to throw Ta'agra phrases into his common speech.

 _renrij_ \- scum. Ja'Kasan uses it as a slur to define himself before fighting Garnok.

 _Kud, ma'Drelkamer!_ \- Come on, baby Orc!

 _liter_ \- brother.

 _Baliji takarr a teko'i kha'jay? Thijizrenrija!_ \- You (plural) attack at full moon? Foolish bandits!

 _Dar'Garnok_ \- Garnok adds the honorific "Dar" to his name to mean "thief".

 **Orc facts:**

Garnok's name was originally Ganrok, created using a name generator, but I misspelled it so often I changed it to Garnok.

Orc surnames have the prefix gro- (masculine) or gra- (feminine) followed by either their same-sex parent's name or by their stronghold's name. Garnok's surname uses the name of his father, Burish the Boar.

In my mind, Burish was an Orc wanderer who had Garnok outside the Largashbur stronghold (explains why Burish was never chief [only chiefs in the strongholds can have children]). Garnok would have been adopted into the stronghold. This does not follow cannon well.

Garnok is called "The Boar Child" for his sizable tusks.

Lore-wise, it is unlikely that Garnok, who follows the Code of Malacath and honors Orsimer tradition, would join the Thieves Guild. If his stronghold ever found out, it is likely he would have been exiled.

I have no clue what an Orc funeral is like. Or how they actually honor their dead. I pieced this idea together with what little I've gathered from the game.

 **Why I did what I did:**

The idea that Ja'Kasan would return to the Companions after a loss of a follower was always the plan. Originally, I planned for it to be Lob, but I didn't really like the look of him and Lob was also too old. I wanted the follower to be young. I debated about having Sven or his rival as Ja'Kasan's followers, but I also needed a candidate for Ja'Kasan to join the Thieves Guild with. Neither had the crime allowances I wanted. So after some thought, I created my own Orc.

I didn't detail/show a lot specifically, as I know you all have played the game. You know how the various adventures go. Ja'Kasan makes mention of the staff quest line, radiant quests from Aela, various Thieves Guild quests (the pair take a bedlam quest in this chapter), the Largashbur quest, and hints at Khajo's quest. Though you cannot travel with the caravans in the game, I felt this was a good grief outlet for Ja'Kasan. Next chapter I will hint at other activities and quests the dragonborn frequently does (daedric quests, Morthal, war quests, etc.), but I won't show any of it because this is supposed to be a small project. If anyone feels like adopting and expanding this story when it's complete, I give them full permission.

* * *

 _Next time: Ja'Kasan returns to the Companions, and Aela confronts him about his absence. Kodlak asks Ja'Kasan to do something he's not sure he wants to do, and Aela offers advice. Some fluff._


	5. Khivalah Vado

**Disclaimer: Not mine, the usual stuff. Entertainment only.**

 **Author's note:** Week late.

Sorry ya'll. Here it is. Would've published yesterday, but I wanted it to be longer than 1,400 words. Now you get twice that!

Hastily edited. Let me know if you find any mistakes.

 **Enjoy. Read. Review.**

* * *

 **Khivalah Vado**

Farkas pulls me inside, putting his hands on my shoulder to display me to the Companions gathered in the room. "Look what the cat dragged in!"

" _Talos_ …" I mutter. _That has to be the worst joke he's told._

The Companions turn their heads. Vilkas, Ria, and Njada wave their tankards at me, their mead sloshing out of their containers without notice. Ria smile seems frozen on her face as she calls out, "Welcome back!" Perhaps she hoped to surpass my standing within the Companions in my absence... From her smell, I can tell she has not.

The new blood call out their welcome too, though they sway in their chairs, already wasted. Torvar claps Athis on the back, sending the Dark Elf face-first into his stew. Though both laugh, I know the accident will escalate into a drunken brawl within the hour.

 _How I missed this place._

Following their greetings, the hall erupts into questions and light-hearted jeers.

"Heard you joined up with the trade caravans that's gotta be a tale."

"How many dragons have you bested?"

"Thalmor prisoners have gone missing, you haven't had anything to do with that, have you?"

"Haven't put on any weight, have you milk-drinker?"

I shrug the questions off while doing my best not to smirk. _Perhaps the tales of the Dragonborn stretch farther than my ears._ "We've got all night to talk!" I say, the heavy scent of venison stew and warm bread invading my nostrils. _I missed this so much._

"Take a seat by the fire and shed your cloak," Kodlak instructs, walking up to me. The year I was gone shows on his face, his time is near. A new scar drags the corner of his eye down, and a film coats his damaged iris. Every hair on his head is white. His voice carries the burden of his exhaustion, as if every word is an anchor. "Your journeys have carried you far. Have some mead, loosen your tongue! Tell us of your victories!"

"Thank you Harbinger, but I'd like to change out of my armor first." The leather of the Thieves Guild armor clings to my fur, hidden beneath my heavy cloak. Part of me knows I should have changed out of the thief garb before entering the city, but I wanted to bring part of Garnok home to the Companions. "I feel like I've soaked up half the White River."

As the Companions laugh, I catch Aela's eye. She leans against the far pillar of the hall, her eyes trained on me. A tankard is drawn close to her chest, but she sets it aside when she meets my eyes. Aela does not smile, nor does she join in Jorrvaskr's laugher.

I pretend not to notice, and turn back to Kodlak, laughing. "No one's started selling the items in my chest yet, have they?"

"No, we give each other a year and a half before we assume anyone's been mauled by a bear." Kodlak chuckles. "Go, get changed. We will have a tankard waiting for you."

I thank him and step aside. As I walk down the stairs to the barracks, I hear another set of footsteps behind me. The noises of a Companions drinking game fade when I enter the hall below. I ignore my follower, Aela's footsteps are unmistakable, I know she doesn't want me to acknowledge her.

Walking up to my chest, I rummage through it for spare clothing. Aela speaks behind me, and though I am expecting it, I still jump. "Everything's still there. We aren't like your friends at the Thieves Guild. We value each other's property."

I grunt, pulling out my roughspun tunic. My nose wrinkles, remembering the smoke, blood, and terror of Helgen. _Was that really a year ago too?_

Before I can slip behind the separator to change, Aela grabs my arm and spins me around. Her finger jabs into my collarbone. "I _know_ Thieves Guild armor when I see it, Ja'Kasan."

I bare my teeth reflexively and push past her. She does not follow me behind the separator and I strip. Though the fabric is rough against the pads of my fingers, I hardly feel the jagged canvas on top of my fur.

"There's been rumors, Kasan," Aela says. "People have been saying you're with the Guild… that you've done favors for daedra, got involved with the Forsworn…"

Returning to Aela, I shove the soggy armor and cloak into my drawer.

"You aren't even going to deny it." Aela mutters incredulously.

"No one gets hurt… usually. If they do, they deserved it. I needed coin, so I did what I was asked." I reply, turning to face her with my arms crossed.

"Then why didn't you come back!" Aela throws her arms wide, scowling. "The Companions would have taken care of you. We have jobs that don't mean you're—"

"What? Stealing? Killing?" I grit my teeth. "My first job here was to rough up some farm hand. The Companions will take any job if it pays well enough, so why are you expecting any different from me?"

"Because you're supposed to be better than us!" Aela shouts. She immediately clamps her mouth shut, as if by not saying another word would invite those that had already left her mouth to come back.

I stammer through my next retort, stumbling around her back-handed compliment. "Because, I? What? Because I'm the Dragonborn? No one in Skyrim would look twice at me if I was just another Khajiit… except to check I hadn't stolen their coin purse. The only reason why people ask me to do things is because they know I'm the Dragonborn. That's the only way I'm useful now."

"That's not what I saw the day I met you." Aela mutters.

"Oh yeah? What did you see?"

"I saw someone who wouldn't let anything get in his way." She steps closer to me, her eyes catching mine. "Few Khajiit get into the city… and yet… this milk-drinking cat, in ill-fitting gear, pushed past a guard. Told the guard he wouldn't take no for an answer." Aela looks down and smiles. "That's what I saw. It's what Skjor—"

"—don't—"

"No," Aela presses on, "you need to hear this. Skjor thought highly of you. He would be saddened by how you've chosen to carry on his legacy… leaving the Companions—"

"I had to get away for a while, Alea." My throat tightens, but I force the words out. Skjor's death had ripped open a tear in my heart I thought had long before entering Skyrim. My father's death created the wound when I was a cub… it had been so long I had forgotten what the pain felt like. "With the Silver Hand taking one of our own, I… I thought ' _it's only a matter of time until they get someone else._ ' I couldn't handle losing another brother so soon after Skjor."

 _And yet I lost Garnok._

"Ja'Kasan, we know not to underestimate the Silver Hand now." Aela grabs my hand and squeezes, willing me to believe her. I'm not sure I do. "We will drive them into the ground before they claim the life of another Companion."

I nod. It's all I can do.

Aela tugs on my arm, dragging me toward the door. "Come, let's join the others. Where did you leave that Orc that was following you like a lost pup?"

I dig my heels into the stone, the friction jolting me to a halt. The force of my stop yanks Aela backward, and she raises an eyebrow as she turns to face me. "His name was Garnok." I manage through clenched teeth. Dead for two weeks and it still feels impossible to admit he is gone. Before Aela can say anything, I force the words out. "He was killed two weeks ago."

"I didn't…" Aela starts. "Kasan, I'm sorry. I didn't know." She rushes forward and presses herself against me in a hug. It's awkward: Aela is not the hugging type. We have never hugged before, and neither of our bodies know how to interact. I am exactly a head taller than her, so her forehead crashes into my larynx. A whine of pain gets trapped in my throat but I wrap my arms around her and rest my chin on top of her head. Somehow… somehow this strange show of affection helps. My heart thuds against her collarbone and I feel hers echo against my stomach.

I close my eyes and allow myself to breathe her in. She smells of battle. Of sweat and blood and iron and leather. Of incredible joy and well-earned wine. My own scent mixes with hers, one of smoke and mud and three days on a horse. The smell of a journey.

A journey come to a close.

* * *

The sun glints off the blade of my sword as it swings through the air and bites into the shoulder of the training dummy. I yank it out; my weak footing sends me stumbling back to the amusement of Vilkas. The Nord stands behind me in the yard, practicing his archery on a target further down the wall. As his arrow pierces the hay, he offers me advice. "Stand firm, whelp. A strong swing cannot save you if you cannot move your feet to follow it."

I nod, planting my feet and swinging my blade again. This time when the metal bites into the wood of the dummy, I slam into the dummy's chest, pulling my sword out in the same motion.

"Or, you can make it work in your favor."

 _Everyone has a comment to make._ I grumble to myself as I reset my stance. Training at Jorrvaskr means leaving myself open to constant critique. _I am a member of the Circle and_ still _everyone has something they want to teach me… it's driving me crazy._

"Aela, there you are." Kodlak's voice sounds behind me. I glance over my shoulder to see the Harbinger stop at the edge of the training yard. Aela's footsteps crunch across the grass, her familiar scent trailing behind. Before either can notice my eavesdropping, I turn to the dummy and raise my sword.

As I resume my training drills, Aela and Kodlak's voices drift across the yard.

"You wanted to see me?" Aela asks. I can hear her hesitation.

Kodlak sighs. "I worry that you've been spending too many nights out."

"Where I go is _my_ business. If you have a concern about my honor, bring it before the Circle."

"You forget yourself, young one." Kodlak warns, his voice like thunder rumbling in the distance.

There is a pause. "…I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap. Just… these hunters… We're all on edge."

"That's why it's best to not mistake foolhardiness for bravery." Kodlak says. "I know you and Ja'Kasan are troubled over Skjor's death, but escalation will not bring peace. Only more death. It's something I learned a long time ago."

"Yes, Harbinger." Aela replies stiffly.

Metal rings out across the yard. I turn to see two of the young bloods clashing shields. That is all I will hear from that conversation. With a sigh, I return to my drill. So Kodlak knows what we are up to… but he does not support our crusade. _Does the old man truly feel that taking the fight to the Silver Hand is a bad decision?_ I wonder. _Or is he trying to bring punishment upon himself?_

" _Qedin-liter!_ " Aela calls. I grin as I turn toward the sound of her voice. She has picked up the Ta'agra words for shield-brother.

 _And she says there's nothing to learn from me._

Aela takes my arm and pulls me aside. Her expression is guarded and she cannot stop chewing on her bottom lip. Her eyes dart behind me and I know she is taking note of everyone's place in the yard. I wait for her to finish her survey of the yard, my hand resting over the one she laid on my arm.

"Is there work to be done?" I ask.

"There is more work to be done…" She mutters, her eyes gazing at a spot behind my head. With a shake of her head, Aela focuses her eyes on me. "I fear Kodlak's gotten wind of our recent efforts. He's… he's asked to see you." I frown, knowing that her words hold danger. Kodlak does not threaten, no word of his is idle thought. Anything he would say to me would have real consequences. "My advice? Always be honest with the old man, but don't tell him anything he doesn't need to know."

I nod, giving her a smile. "Don't worry, Aela. I once went toe-to-toe with the Prince of Madness."

"Aye, and that does not give me confidence."

Laughing, I walk toward Jorrvaskr, portraying more confidence than I feel. Aela is right, as she often is. Kodlak would not tolerate lies. It would be best to be honest with him. _But he doesn't need to know the full extent of our crusade against the Silver Hand._

When I enter Kodlak's room, I find him gazing into the distance, as if the stone wall in front of him is a window into another realm. His head turns to acknowledge my entrance, but his eyes are slow to follow. Finally, his eyes focus on me and he gestures to the chair across from him. I comply, though I sit forward in my seat.

"Aela says you wished to see me."

Kodlak smiles, but I feel his eyes studying me. "I hear you've been busy of late."

"Skjor deserves to have the scum who killed him brought to justice."

He sighs, and closes his eyes. "Your hearts are full of grief, and my own weeps at the loss of Skjor. But his death was avenged long ago. You have taken more lives than honor demanded. The cycle of retaliation may continue for some time." Kodlak pauses. "I know this has been a difficult year for you, with the loss of Skjor and your friend Garnok… but trust me when I say that no matter how many lives you take, you cannot bring them back."

I clench my jaw, but say nothing.

After a few moments, Kodlak continues. "I have a task for you. Tell me, have you heard how the Companions acquired our beast blood?"

The change of topic surprises me, and I stutter an answer. "Skjor said it was a blessing. From Hircine."

Kodlak nods. "Aye, that sounds like him. As in all matters of faith, though, the reality is more complicated than one believer would tell you."

"And what would that reality be?" I ask.

"The Companions are nearly five thousand years old. This matter of beast blood has only troubled us for a few hundred. One of my predecessors was a good, but short-sighted man. He made a bargain with the witches of Glenmoril Coven. If the Companions would hunt in the name of their lord, Hircine, we would be granted great power."

"They became werewolves." I interrupt.

"Yes, though they did not believe the change would be permanent." Kodlak laughs, his voice carrying no humor. "The witches offered payment, like anyone else. But we had been deceived."

"The witches lied?"

"Well, _no_. They didn't lie, of course. But the beast blood affects more than our bodies," Kodlak says. "The disease, you see," I scrunch my nose at the word _disease_ , "affects not just our bodies. It seeps into the spirit. Upon death, werewolves are claimed by Hircine for his Hunting Grounds. For some, this is a paradise. I imagine Aela will find it to be exactly that… These hunters want nothing more than to chase prey with their master for eternity. And that is their choice."

 _An endless hunt? Yes, Aela would love that._

"But I am still a true Nord. And I wish for Sovngarde as my spirit home." Kodlak once again gazes past me to something I cannot see.

"You… you wished to be cured?" I ask, cautiously sounding out each word.

"That's what I've spent my twilight years trying to find out. And now… I've found the answer!" Kodlak's face breaks into a smile. "The witches' magic ensnared us, and only their magic can release us. They won't give it willingly, but we can extract their foul powers by force. I want you to seek them out. Go to their coven in the wilderness. Strike them down as a true warrior of the wild. And bring me their heads. The seat of their abilities. From there, we may begin to undo centuries of impurity."

I let his words sink in. _A cure_. I turn my head to the hall, thinking of all the Circle members. Any of them might want an out from the call of the blood. Farkas with his thick skull and kind heart. His brother, Vilkas, who took Skjor in his arms when I could no longer carry him. Kodlak, proud, a true Nord in every way, but one of the first to be kind to me. And Aela. Aela who sees the beast blood as a blessing.

Who would not live without it.

For a moment, I close my eyes. I try to imagine my life without the beast blood. The world feels dull, colorless. Does my blood pound through my veins without the heat from the beast?

 _But he's just a different power just like Hircine._ Garnok's voice echoes through my thoughts, and I can't help but smile. Everything made a little more sense with him.

"I don't wish to remove this blessing." I find myself saying, my thoughts still on Garnok's words.

"This is not about your desires, lad." Kodlak growls. "Your own fate will be your own choice. Just as always. Now be gone."

* * *

An elk grazes on the short grass of the Skyrim fields surrounding Whiterun. It pays no attention to me as I pad forward to get within range. The wind shifts, and I circle to the left to remain downwind. The elk's ear twitches, but it does not move.

I take a deep breath, letting the wind bite through my fur to send a chill down my spine. I draw my bow string back. The feathers of the arrow graze my cheek as I let it fly. It cuts through the air and strikes the elk. But I do not fatally wound it.

The elk jumps and springs forward. I swear and stand up to chase after it. Two arrows streak through the air before I can take a step, felling the elk. Glancing over my shoulder, I see Aela shake her head.

" _Wafiit,_ Kasan." Aela mutters, whacking me with the end of her bow as she passes. "Don't you aim?"

I sneer, but don't rise to her bait. We walk forward to inspect the elk together. The elk lays on the ground, its breathing labored. I bend down beside it and put a hand on its neck. " _Ketud_." I say to Aela, asking for her hunting knife. Since my return, I have been teaching her Ta'agra words.

She hands the blade to me. With a quick movement, I slice the elk's neck, putting the beast out of its misery. We set to work skinning it in silence.

When we are finished, Aela launches into a critique of my archery technique. I only half-listen to her. The night before we raided another Silver Hand hole. We gathered some information, but saw more horrors of the sadist clan. Their werewolf experiments are escalating. I barely slept last night, plagued by nightmares. Aela had noticed, and today on our return journey she started trying to distract me with training and hunting.

Her efforts allow me to feel numb.

And yet… my mind wanders to my discussion with Kodlak. After giving me the task of hunting down the Glenmoril witches, he has not brought it up again. I have not told Aela of his request, but it weighs heavy on me. I do not know if I can find him a cure for something I see no wrong in.

 _But he wants to enter Sovngarde. He hasn't much time._

"Kasan!"

My head snaps toward my name. Aela raises an eyebrow, standing several paces behind me. I look forward to see my feet in a stream. "Oh…" I mutter, stepping back onto the road.

"What is on your mind, brother?" Aela asks, laying a hand on my arm.

I shrug. "Let's eat something."

As I pull out rations from my pack, Aela studies me, her eyes raising heat to my cheeks. I ignore her gaze and sit on the bank of the stream, kicking off my boots and putting my toes in the water. Aela sits beside me and follows suit. I hand her a biscuit.

We sit in silence as the midday sun warms our skin. I force myself to swallow the food I have no interest in, grateful for its distraction.

Finally, I answer her question. "Kodlak asked me to do something." I feel her shift closer to me. "He's looking for a cure."

"No, if he's asking you… he's found one." Aela mutters. I glance at her, but her eyes are focused on the stream, the shimmering light reflecting in the green of her irises.

I lay back, closing my eyes. "I don't know if I should do it."

Something settles on my chest, and I crack an eye open to see Aela has rested her head over my heart. "He's not demanding you cure yourself." She pauses. "But Kodlak trusts you to complete this task for him. And you should do it."

"Even though it is not a curse?"

"To Kodlak, it is. His body cannot handle the beast blood any longer, and he longs for Sovngarde. Honor his request, Kasan. He has entered his final winter."

"He is at his journey's end. _Sallidadna kud to raj rakiit._ " I mutter, my mind decided. "I shall do it."

* * *

 **The Following are Ta'agra translations using The Ta'agra Project:**

 _Khivalah Vado -_ Traveling over. Loosely translates to journey's end.

 _Qedin-liter_ \- Shield-Brother.

 _Wafiit_ \- idiot.

 _Ketud_ \- knife.

 _Sallidadna kud to raj rakiit -_ Death comes to all warriors.

Fun fact: The Ta'agra project added over 1,000 words while I was editing last chapter. I really wanted to find excuses to use more Ta'agra words, but I scrapped a scene that did so. It felt forced. Hope you enjoyed this. I am officially behind now, and it will be another wait until the next chapter. But hey, we're almost done. One or two more chapters left!


	6. Fusozay Var Dar

**Disclaimer: Still ain't mine. Entertainment only. Dialogue taken from the game.**

 **Author's note:** Yeah yeah yeah.

Hey, sorry. Things and all. February kicked my butt. This is short because I wanted to crank this out in a day (which I did). I'm going to play through the remainder of the Companions quest line and then finish writing this.

I'm a bit rusty with writing in present tense, so I'll take any and all comments on that.

 **Enjoy. Read. Review.**

* * *

 **Fusozay Var Dar**

I take a deep breath, feeling the cool morning air fill my lungs. The air clings to my fur, its dampness sending a chill down my spine. The sun has only begun to peak above the horizon, painting the sky pink. The bag of Glenmoril witch heads thuds like a wet sack of fruit against the flank of my horse as I ride to the Whiterun stables. Killing the wretched creatures had been easier than I expected… perhaps the millennia had finally gotten to them.

But my task is now complete. Kodlak can be cured and resign himself to the great halls of Sovngarde.

 _I shouldn't sound so bitter_. I scold myself, remembering Aela's words to respect Kodlak. _He is a great warrior, worthy of the afterlife he desires. Even it is different than my wish._

Throwing the sack of Glenmoril witch heads to the ground, I dismount my horse and begin my trek to the city. As I pass through the gates, I notice something that makes my heart skip a beat.

There are no guards at the gate.

My mind races through the possibilities as my legs propel me forward, pounding the dirt to the rhythm of my heartbeat. Nothing in town is on fire, so no dragons. Buildings all intact… the war hadn't come to Whiterun. But something still feels off, as if the entire city couldn't catch its breath.

I reach the Wind District and stumble to a stop. A large crowd has started to form around the base of the stairs leading to Jorrvaskr. The crowd's murmurs carry shock and disbelief. I shove my way through the crowd, doing my best to ignore the words I hear.

"Jorrvaskr… they attacked Jorrvaskr."

"I didn't think it was possible…"

"Is that Ja'Kasan? Where was he?"

"How could this happen?"

Breaking through the crowd, I race up the stairs to see Aela standing over a body. She breathes heavily, her hair partially tied behind her head and a few sweaty strands swaying in front of her eyes. As I approach, she looks up.

"Kasan!" Her voice cracks. I see that she isn't wearing any war paint, but her face is streaked with blood, a large cut swelling above her eyebrow. Even in the early morning hour, she wears her familiar armor, though I do not recognize the dagger in her hand that drips blood onto the body at her feet. One of the arms of her victim has a bone sticking out and his throat is nothing more than a bloody line. Whoever it had been, he made a terrible mistake messing with Aela the Huntress.

"Aela, what…" I feel my own voice catch. A silver sword lays beside the body.

"These two aren't a problem anymore," Aela nods toward Torvar, who I hadn't noticed until now, where he stood over another body. "It was the Silver Hand, Kasan. The cowards—" Her eyes widen and she grabs my hand, "By the Nine! We have to get inside."

Before I can ask why, she yanks my arm and runs toward the doors of Jorrvaskr. She flings the doors wide and stumbles to a halt, her hands going to her mouth. A small cry escapes her throat, but she says nothing. I scan the room, catching sight of Athis, curled in a ball and bloody, near the stairs. The light is dim, but I can see there is something wrong with his face, his gray skin puckering like poorly shrunk leather. Young Ria crouches beside him, tears in her eyes as she tries to remove an arrow from his shoulder. As my eyes continue to sweep the room, I see what stopped Aela.

Farkas sits beside the fire, his head in his hands. Next to him, Njada crouches beside a body. "How could they have done this…?" she whispers, her outstretched hand clenching into a fist.

I walk forward, barely believing what I'm seeing. Between the two is Kodlak. He lays there, broken, stripped of his armor, his warhammer inches from his fingertips. A hole where his heart should be. "No…" I breathe.

Suddenly, something slams into me and I lose my grip on the bag of witch heads. My back hits one of Jorrvaskr's supporting pillars, my head cracking against the wood. Someone's arm is against my windpipe and I struggle through stars to see his face. Vilkas growls in my face, his eyes flashing like steel.

"Where have you been?" Vilkas demands, his breath hot and foul in my face.

I snarl. "I was doing Kodlak's bidding." I manage to gesture at the bag of witch heads. It had broken open and several heads spilled onto the floor.

Vilkas shoves himself off of me, bruising my collarbone. "Well I hope it was important, because it means you weren't here to defend him." He follows my gesture, gritting his teeth as he sees the witch heads. "So you did it…" his fists clench and he begins to shout, "only you were too late! You wasted your energy, _cat_."

"Vilkas!" Aela scolds, suddenly at my side. "Ja'Kasan did what Kodlak asked of him. You would have done the same."

"And I have." Vilkas' upper lip curls. "My blood runs too hot, forgive me brother. The Silver Hand finally found enough courage to attack Jorrvaskr. We fought them off, but they still got him. They still murdered Kodlak."

"Was anyone else hurt?" I look at Aela, at least half of the blood on her face had to be her own.

Vilkas crosses his arms. "They brought a battlemage. He got Athis pretty bad… half of his body his burnt to Oblivion."

I nod, my eyes drifting to the injured Companion. Ria must have coaxed him into a sitting position, but with the firelight now flickering off his skin, I can see the damage done. It will take months for him to heal, and even then, the blackened areas of his face may remain scarred. I look away quickly.

"And…" Vilkas continues, "they made off with all our fragments of Wuuthrad." Aela swears beside me. Vilkas gives me a grim smile. "But you and I are going to reclaim them. We will bring the battle to their chief camp. There will be none left living to tell their stories. Only songs of Jorrvaskr will be sung!"

I find myself smiling, already picturing what I would do to the Silver Hand _renrij._ "We will avenge Kodlak." I growl.

"And they will know terror before the end." Vilkas finishes. He glances over his shoulder at Njada. "Help Ria move Athis. I must speak with the other members of the Circle."

Njada nods, and moves to comply. When only the Circle members are left in the room, Vilkas sighs. "Aela, you are in charge until we get back. Store those heads somewhere safe. And have Eorlund recreate Kodlak's armor, he deserves to be buried with full honor."

"What does it matter?" Farkas spits, looking up at his brother. "His soul was claimed by Hircine. He'll never rest… he didn't want this."

"We don't have time to figure out how to save his soul." Vilkas says. "Our first priority is to get the fragments of Wuuthrad back."

"You mean 'take revenge'."

Vilkas rounds on his brother. "In this case, they are one in the same. If we don't move fast, they'll move the fragments. We'll spend the rest of our lifetimes getting them back."

"Then why waste our breath here?" I ask, interrupting the brothers. Farkas frowns, but he does not argue.

Aela grabs my hand, her calluses grazing my fur. Before I can turn to look down at her, she stands on her tip-toes and kisses my cheek. Not for the first time, I am thankful my fur hides the heat that rises to my face. I catch Vilkas smirking for a brief moment before I turn to Aela. She smiles, her feet planted firmly on the ground.

"Make 'em bleed."

* * *

We reach Driftshade Refuge as night falls. Although the breeze blows cold, I feel too warm. I want out of my armor. Out of my body. It's my blood. It runs too hot. I feel the beast clawing at the back of my mind, pulling my muscles. _Calm down, Ja'Kasan, don't make any stupid mistakes here. Be smart._

 _This is revenge, it isn't smart._

As I hop off my horse, Vilkas lays a hand on my shoulder. It takes everything in me not to overreact and shove him. "This is it, brother. Those bastards will pay."

I nod, crouching and drawing my bow as I move closer to the building. Three Silver Hand guard the outside, and they fall in less than a minute. My heart pounds like horse hooves and I can't still it. Vilkas leads the way into the refuge, and the stench hits me like a fist. Blood. Mead. _Filth_. The place is infested with Silver Hand… and the stench of dead werewolves is unmistakable.

A growl rumbles deep in my chest. My veins are on fire.

Vilkas glances at me, his eyebrow raised in concern. "What is it?"

I grit my teeth and feel the change begin.

"Ja'Kasan, wait!"

There is no waiting. _Fusozay Var Dar._ Kill without qualm.

I fall to my knees as my back arcs. Far-off pain stretches my bones, pulls my fur. The air tastes sweeter, however, and I can feel the power rushing through my limbs. The Silver Hand's blood is mine. I would taste it.

* * *

"Ja'Kasan… come on you idiot… Ja'Kasan! Whelp!"

I groan and roll onto my side. My stomach feels like gravel and my head feels like someone had used it as an anvil. The world comes back to me slowly. The first thing I am aware of is that I am covered in blood. I taste it on my tongue and feel its slick on my claws.

My eyes snap open. Pulling myself to my knees, I turn my stomach out onto the stone floor below. I hear Vilkas curse behind me. Sick splatters against the stone, and the sound only makes me puke more. After a few moments, however, my stomach is empty and I am weak.

"You done, kid?" Vilkas asks. From his voice I can tell he is several paces back. A safe distance.

I nod.

"Good. I thought I'd lost you to the beast. Do you… do you want to know what you did?"

"I can guess." I pick myself up and swipe at my mouth. We must still be in Driftshade Refuge, because the air smells of musk and blood. The chamber we're in has a raised platform, which we stand on, and across from where we stand is a small room where the vermin must have slept. It certainly stinks like it.

My skin crawls as I look down at myself. My fur is matted with blood. There is a cut across my chest, but it is not deep. I turn to look at Vilkas, and he gives a little smile. It feels reassuring enough. He tosses my bag back to me and I redress without a word.

Vilkas fills my silence. "Good news: we did it. Wiped them all out. The Silver Hand will only rise again if idiots decide to listen to their tales. For now, we are safe."

"And the fragments?"

"Turn around, brother." Vilkas commands. I turn to see Vilkas stands beside a table with all the fragments laid out. "Let's go home."

* * *

 **As usual, some Ta'agra translations. We didn't have a ton of Ta'agra this time:**

 _Fusozay Var Dar -_ Kill Without Qualm. One of the _thjizzrini_ ("foolish concepts") of the _Ahzirr Traajijazeri._

 _renrij -_ scum

Well, I'll update eventually. :D

Luckily, I'm on spring break, so I might have some time to write as I'm stuck in airports.


	7. Fusi Zavna'a Nijrika in Keth

**Disclaimer: The Elder Scrools series, Skyrim, and related titles are property of the developers and creatives. Dialogue and Kodlak's journal entries taken from the game via the Unofficial Elder Scrolls Pages wiki.**

 **Author's note:** Close. So close.

Sorry. Excuses. School.

This chapter (which was supposed to be the last) ended up taking both more time AND more space than I anticipated. I completely rewrote what I had on it a few days ago after realizing I hated it, so that's why it took so long. Also I feel like I screwed up some of the last chapter as far as characters go, so this one I try to amend some of that. If it feels disjointed between last chapter and this one, that is why.

The rest of it will be uploaded in a week or so. Just wanted to fling this out there for my own high.

 **Enjoy. Read. Review.**

* * *

 **Fusi Zavna'a Nijrika in Keth**

Neither of us say anything as we drag ourselves out of Driftshade Refuge. Vilkas nurses his sword arm like an injured bird and he limps on his left side, but the only thing that passes his lips are short, hot breaths. I hand the reins of my horse to him and he clambers up without complaint. The exhaustion has set in.

As we walk, I scrub at my fur with tuffs of grass. _No use_ , I grumble to myself as I watch the shreds of grass float to the ground, their stems stained red. My nose wrinkles. " _Mor kha'jay! Ahziss deqe nojri._ "

Vilkas grunts in response. I have no doubt he has no idea what I said, but the sentiment comes across as if he had: _I need to clean off._

We say nothing further for a long time. My feet pad forward on their own accord, marching to a drum beat I do not recognize. I don't know if I have ever known Vilkas to be _so_ quiet. He and his brother, Farkas, are not known for their words, but neither could be mistaken for v _alqahlipitha._ Those without tongues. With every step, I see him struggling to speak. He rattles like a sword in its sheath, his teeth clattering in his half-opened mouth. I know how he feels. He wants to celebrate the retrieval of the fragments, but with the end of our quest came the reminder of death. Not just of the Silver Hand and the death of the Companions' rivalry with the group, but also of Kodlak's passing.

…what I want more than anything is to get the blood off of me.

For the first time, I feel disgusted in the beast. My stomach still churns and I taste blood at the back of my tongue. I know there is flesh in my stomach, and the very thought makes me sick. Never before had I lost control like that. Lost myself in the beast. Aela had warned me of the risk of losing yourself to the beast, but I had thought those who did were fools. _Fumbatena_ who could not hold onto themselves. But I had done it, and at least in part, understood.

Because after losing Skjor and Garnok and Kodlak… I could see the ease and release in slipping into the beast.

 _"The first transformation is always the worst."_ Skjor's words echo in my head, bringing a scornful laugh up from my chest. _No, the one you lose yourself is. Your last one._

After some time, Vilkas asks if I want to stop and rest. We have been walking for what remained of the day, and night is descending. The cool evening air whips past my face, carrying with it the scent of water… a river is nearby. I glance down at my hands, still coated in blood. My chest may have started bleeding again, but with all the dried gore I cannot tell.

"There is water, a river or a pond or something, near. I need—" I start.

Vilkas cuts me off. "I know." He pulls the reins of my horse toward the scent of water. "I did not want to press you."

"Thank you." I follow him, my feet finding their dull rhythm again. Sensation is coming back to me, pain drowning out the numbness I feel radiating from my heart. I forgot to replace my boots: my feet are raw and I believe the blood is my own. Something stings on my face and as I bring my hand up, I discover a tear in my ear where I once wore an earring.

The second I see the water, I run. "Oh, thank Talos."

Vilkas laughs somewhat hollowly. As I glance back, he struggles out of the stirrup. His arm has swollen to the point where he must remove his bracers, but his limp is gone. I take a cautious step toward him, my hands raised in assistance, but he only shakes his head.

"Come one step closer to me with your filth and I'll lose what little I've eaten today."

"Understood." I mutter, returning to the water. By the time I finish washing, the water near shore has turned the color of rust. I clamber out of the river, hoisting my body over a rock ledge to avoid stepping on small stones. My feet are bleeding my own blood and the cut in my chest has ripped open. Everything hurts. Even my stomach has become upset once more.

With Vilkas a distance out of ear shot, I clear my stomach again. I need it empty.

 _What will you do when you transform again?_ My mind asks.

I cringe at the thought and reject the bile. Throat burning, I coax water from the river into my mouth. Suddenly, I need something to cool the heat in my veins. The thought of the beast's blood mixed with my own sends a tingling sensation from my fingertips up to my elbows.

 _"He thinks we've been cursed, but we've been_ blessed. _"_

I have the cure to this curse. I have the cure if I should want it.

 _"This isn't a curse. There's nothing to cure_."

Aela and Skjor's words echo in my skull. I let the water fall through my teeth. Aela would be ashamed if I told her what I'd done… how I feel right now. But if I do not tell her she would be furious. And maybe she can help me make sense of my own head.

Vilkas has set up a fire when I rejoin him. He's bound his arm with leather strips; it will do for now. As I sit, he glances over at me and extends a half-loaf of bread. I take it without a word. Gnawing on the bread takes my mind off the beast. Something cold hits my bare foot, and I look up. Vilkas holds a bottle of liquor aloft.

"You need this."

I do. The liquor burns through the fog in my mind. It's none of that honey-sweet mead stuff, it's good. Strong. Probably mixed up in some sap's cellar, but I don't care.

Vilkas watches as I down half the bottle. "Do you want any help bandaging your wounds? You know restoration magic, don't you?"

I manage to nod while I leave the bottle on my lips. The words… seem less clear now. The actions for the spell. That court wizard at Whiterun would call me a fool. Forgetting the words like a _wafiit_.

I think I forget to swallow because half the alcohol spills out of my mouth when I try to answer. "I don't think I can recall the words."

Vilkas chuckles, his dark eyes flickering in the firelight. "That's alright, whelp. You need to forget some things tonight. That stuff is stronger than ten orcs."

Pulling the bottle close, I stare at the label as the letters float in my vision. " _Jer jetwijijri_. _"_

"No, you needed this." Vilkas argues, pulling bandages, one-handed, from my bag. "Besides, everyone knows you ain't no milk-drinker—"

" _Jimetiit_." My tongue translates. I have to translate every word from his mouth into Ta'agra in my head. Suddenly all the language is slipping away from me.

"Yes, Ja'Kasan. ' _Jimetiit_.'" He repeats, butchering the word. "You sleep. Forget. We will set off in the morning."

I narrow my eyes at him as I feel my limbs become lead. " _Kaaka thjiz qara va._ " Seeing no harm in it, I raise the bottle and swallow the rest. My brain tingles for a few moments. Even Sanguine has to be impressed at my tolerance.

Then the night hits me like a fist.

* * *

I wake with the sun in my eyes and my arms thudding against the hide of my horse. Groaning, I pull myself into a sitting position in the saddle and squint around me. The sun says it is afternoon. I have no clue where we are.

"Ah! You're finally awake!" Vilkas cheers, slapping his hand against my shin. I wince and cling to my horse's neck as I squeeze my eyes shut. Something tickles my whiskers and I peek with one eye. Vilkas has shoved some grass in my face. "Chew on this. It'll keep you from vomitting."

"Why do I feel like that would be a good decision?" I mutter, taking the plants. In that moment, I expect the night to come back to me. I've dealt with my fair share of hangovers, even the black outs I'll remember the next day.

But nothing comes.

We walk on for a while longer, me chewing on grass and Vilkas humming some old Nord song, before I have to ask, "What happened? I don't… I do not remember last night."

Vilkas falls silent, the only sound coming from the stone crunching under the horse's hooves. Even nature has taken an interest in his answer. "We will be in Whiterun soon."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"Nay, and you wouldn't like it." He glances up at me, his dark eyes overcast by the cloudless sky. "Do you remember anything from yesterday?"

"Kodlak… is dead…" I mutter, feeling my mind strain for lost thoughts. "And… we… Wuuthrad …" My eyes open completely, "I–the beast—did something… _bad_."

"Depends how you look at it," Vilkas sighs. "I won't tell you unless you ask whelp, but you were not happy with the beast."

"Did I say that?" I ask, rubbing my temple.

A grunt. "When you were… indisposed." He pauses. "Do you want to know?"

Closing my eyes, I press my cheek against the neck of my horse. The creature's sweat is a familiar scent and feels like an anchor in the midst of my troubled mind. I remember wanting to talk to Aela about something… something with the beast. The sensation of shame numbs my fingertips.

"The Silver Hand are gone. It was me." I state. Not a question. Queasiness rocks my stomach. "I don't want to know."

"Okay…" Metal screeches against metal as he scratches the back of his neck. "But after… after Kodlak's funeral, if you do not remember, I will tell you. You have to gain control over the beast and I am afraid only fear will help you."

"That must be why I wanted to talk to Aela," I mutter. Either Vilkas does not hear or he pretends not to.

We arrive in Whiterun as the sun begins to graze the mountains. Whiterun still has not caught its breath, and feels paused in time. No one walks outside their shops, and even the Talos wailer is silent in the Wind District.

When we reach Jorrvaskr, Vilkas stops. "We should both clean off. Join us at the pyre when you are ready." He takes a step and stops, "Oh, Aela should have your ceremonial armor. See her first." A hint of a smile plays on his lips but before I can even narrow my eyes, he's walked inside the doors.

I follow and make my way down to Aela's quarters. A few other Companions file past me as I walk, dressed in armor I know they've hardly worn: either trophies or ceremonial. Athis claps me on the shoulder as he walks by. As much as it was revenge for Kodlak, it was revenge for him to, for what the Silver Hand had done to all of us. I barely move fast enough to stop him. He raises an area of his skin that used to host an eyebrow, and I quickly grab a silver sword from my bag. Pressing the blade into his hand, I search his face for validation... acknowledgement. Something like satisfaction stretches across his taunt face. Athis slips the sword into his belt and continues up the stairs.

As I enter the sleeping quarters, I see Aela sitting on the edge of my bed. She wears a set of wolf armor, nearly identical to my own, and it gleams in the torchlight. Her head raises as she hears me approach. She stands, her face stoic.

"What happened to you?" She asks, the old bitterness in her voice.

I touch the ear she's staring at and feel crusted blood around a tear where my piercing used to be. Frowning, I look down and notice a large cut on my chest has broken open and blood dribbles through my traveling shirt.

Aela takes my hand. "Come on, _wafiit_. Let's get you fixed up."

Before I can argue, she pushes me down into a chair in her room and pulls my shirt over my head. As she dabs a wet cloth over the cut on my chest, I grit my teeth. "Ouch!" I breathe. The cloth is soaked in alcohol.

" _Shota zavozay_!" Aela hisses, commanding me to stay still when I flinch. "Are you going to tell me what happened? You usually heal yourself."

My eyebrows knit together and one of my hands goes to my brow. "I don't really remember." I pause, feeling dread sink into my heart. Suddenly _I do remember._ Aela barely gets out of the way as I push past and empty my stomach into a kettle along the wall. "Talos…" I moan, spitting out bile. "Oh gods I—"

"Hush." Aela says, quickly shutting the door. A curious young blood had peered into her room.

I cradle the kettle into my stomach and squeeze my eyes shut. "Aela, I lost it. The beast—it's never been like that. I mean, with Skjor, I had it under control. I think… I think I lost it with Dar'Garnok. Talos, Aela… I can't do this anymore."

She kneels beside me and puts a hand on my shoulder. I don't want to look at her, fearing disappointment in her eyes.

"I killed… _devoured_ … a farmer and his wife." Aela says suddenly, her voice steady. "I… it was early in my transformation. I loved letting the beast loose at night, running the countryside. But this one night… I strayed too close to the road while tracking a bear. The beast just saw them as more prey." I look at Aela and her eyes have lost focus, perhaps reliving that night. "I threw up for nearly a week, and then every time I thought about it." She squeezes my shoulder. "If we are not careful, we forget. We forget that while we and the beast are one, we cannot let it take over our minds.

"It's easier if it does, I know that, Kasan. I know with everything that's happened to you in this last year that nothing feels better than to surrender control, but you cannot do that. None of us can have that luxury."

"Maybe Kodlak was right," I mutter, "maybe this is a curse." I can feel Aela tense beside me, and I regret my words. But she does not leave my side. Squeezing my eyes shut, I rest my head against the lip of the kettle. "Garnok told me once that Hircine and Malacath were just different powers, that the gifts we have are just different. Nothing to be ashamed of." I laugh. "If only he realized."

Aela says nothing.

"Do you think it works? Kodlak's cure?" I can't help but ask. I need to hear her thoughts.

She takes a few moments. "Yes. I have no doubts. The second he went to you about his far-flung cure, I knew." Her hand falls. "And whatever you want to do, Ja'Kasan," the addition of my honorific hurts me, "I will support you in it. But think carefully on it."

My question hurt her, I can tell. She rises quickly and her feet click against the stone as she crosses the room. I rinse my mouth with what ale is left in my travel bag and stand too.

"Aela, wait. I didn't mean—"

She turns, her gaze silencing me. "For one cautious of tongue, you have let too much of your mind out through your organ. I do not blame you for what you said, but you _know_ how I feel. This… this is a gift to me."

I swallow the lump in my throat. "I didn't… you must be so ashamed of me."

"Ashamed?" Aela crosses her arms, demanding explanation.

"I let myself become an animal. Let Hircine's gift become a curse."

She shakes her head. "You were always going to have trouble with your transformations, I could see that from your first. And with so much anger… _Kasan_ , I am not ashamed of you," Aela takes a step toward me, her arm lifting a little as if to take my hand, "but I am sad. Sad that you had to go through it."

"Me too." I mutter, walking over to where my ceremonial wolf armor lay out on her bed. Taking the wolf helmet (identical to the one I usually wear but absent of dents) in my hands, I feel a surge of the beastblood. Power and anger mix into a deadly cocktail in my veins. The air is cooler, scents sharper. Aela's heartbeat sounds as if it is in my ear. Everything feels more real with the heat in my blood.

But the nausea is there too, reminding me of what I did. A tired rage bubbles beneath the surface, one that itches for a fight it knows will one day come.

Aela places a hand between my shoulder blades. "Not even a full day has passed. You are allowed to feel however you do." Reaching down, she picks up my chest plate. "Come. The others are waiting."

I look down at her, and my heart drops. She does her best to smile but the last two days have been hard on her too. Kodlak, very much like her father, has died. She was left to care for his body as two of her shield-brothers went to retrieve Wuuthrad and avenge Kodlak's death. Bodies of the Silver Hand had to be disposed of, the witches' heads hidden. She has not even had a moment to grieve when I return with news of my personal failure and distaste of the beast.

I am afraid that in my need for a strong hand to help carry me through I have pushed her away. But Aela is so important to me. All the banter, the hunting, the learning from each other… Aela is most of my world. Even when I was gone mourning Skjor, I thought about her. Now, I never want to leave her side. Without a doubt, I love her.

And I have to know she's okay. "Are you ready to join the others? _Jer do?_ "

Her half-smile falters for a second before she looks at the ground. I take the chest plate from her and set it aside.

"I'm here for you, Aela. You do not have to be strong today."

" _Wafa Kasan_." Aela growls, yanking me close and burying her face in my neck. Her breath whispers through my fur, like the air before a summer rain. I wrap my arms around her and allow her to press into me. " _Na do_. The man who practically raised me is dead, and we could not even do for him his last request." Her words become choked, but she pushes through. "There has to be _something_ we can do." Aela pulls back and shakes her head. "But for now we must send him off."

I brush my fingers across her cheek. "Your heart is so big. _Ahziss isha jaji eja jer_." I'm not sure if she catches what I have said, that I have just slipped and used the word " _isha"_ to say I admired her heart… _isha_ which means "to love" in Ta'agra. My muscles freeze and I watch her face cautiously, but she only closes her eyes and smiles.

"You are kind, Kasan. Somehow, even after being the idiot you are, you know what to say." Aela turns toward the door as if she hears something from above. "After this is all over, I am buying us enough drinks so we both slip under the table."

I grin. "I look forward to it."

"Good," Aela looks back at me. "Now dress, milk-drinker."

"You go on ahead," I say, grabbing my greaves from the bed. "I'll get dressed quick."

"Do you not need help?"

I shake my head. "Everyone expects me to be late, I always am." Aela shrugs and walks toward the door. "Besides, I have to take everything that I am currently wearing off."

Aela turns back with a slight smirk on her face. "Kasan, you act as if I have never seen you naked."

* * *

As I walk to the Skyforge, I see the Companions and half the town gathered on the stone. Kodlak's body sits atop an unlit funeral pyre, clothed in his ceremonial armor. His Warhammer lays clutched in his hands over his chest. A lump forms in my throat, and I barely make it up the last step. Kodlak seems so life-like. His wounds are cleaned and covered, his eyes closed as if in sleep.

But he is gone.

Aela stands closest to the pyre, her face like stone. The brief moment of humor I saw from her earlier has since evaporated. Now the time of grief has come.

Eorlund Gray-Mane approaches the pyre and speaks, "Who will start?"

Aela takes a deep breath, "I'll do it." There is some shuffling as the mourners rearrange themselves. I find myself standing beside Farkas at the end. Aela raises her torch and begins the ancient rite: a call and response between her, the speaker, and us, the mourners. "Before the ancient flame…"

"We grieve."

"At this loss…"

"We weep."

Vilkas steps forward, "For the fallen…"

"We shout."

Farkas clenches his fist beside me, his eyes shining. He says his line through clenched teeth, "And for ourselves…"

"We take our leave."

The wind blows, but no other sound is made. Aela places her torch on the funeral pyre and steps back. We stand silent for a long time, watching the pyre catch light. "His spirit is departed. Members of the Circle, let us withdraw to the Underforge, to grieve our last together."

The crowd departs like whispers of smoke. I take a few steps toward Aela, who stands in front of the pyre, her eyes locked on the flames. Her arms fold over her chest and wrap around her sides. I want to put my hand on her shoulder and draw her close. With the formal ceremony done, she will need time to mourn in her own way.

But before I reach her, a hand pulls at my elbow. I turn to see Eorlund, his eyes red. He grunts before speaking, trying out his voice so it does not break. "So boy, did you get the fragments?"

"Uhhh…" I peer around his shoulder to see Aela glance in my direction. She turns away hastily. "…yes. Yes, we retrieved them."

Eorlund nods. "Good, good. There is one last favor I have of you. Kodlak always kept a shard in his room, I'll need that to complete the weapon. I would get it myself but…"

"I understand," I interrupt him. No one has set foot in Kodlak's room since his death. "I will get it for you."

"Thank you, Ja'Kasan." He says. I think it's the first time he's ever used my name.

Eorlund steps away, and once again I see Aela looking at me. I gesture with my hand for her to follow. Perhaps visiting his quarters will help her. Also, I do not wish to go alone. Kodlak was the first Nord to truly show me kindness, to give me a chance in Skyrim. Seeing him lain out in his final sleep has left a bitter taste in my mouth. We—I— had failed him. He wasn't cured in time, and it was my fault. _If only I'd been_ faster… maybe he would be in Sovngarde.

As she comes alongside me, I explain what Eorlund has asked. "No one has touched his quarters yet." Aela says, her voice oddly flat. "I did not know he had a fragment of Wuuthrad hidden there."

I nod. When we reach his quarters, I feel as if eyes are watching me. The dresser stares accusingly at me, an open book asking where I had been.

 _This is the one they call Ja'Kasan,_ they say, _only present when he is no longer needed._

"It's so… quiet," Aela mutters.

I hold back my scoff. The room roars in my ears.

She walks toward the far wall and begins to search. Every item she turns over with delicate care, as if each were an eggshell. I envy her ability to compartmentalize her feelings. Mine always seem to crash into one another.

After a few moments of watching her, I start my own search. I walk over to his bed and peer under the straw mattress, under the bed itself. The end table looks more promising, so I open the drawer. A fragment of Wuuthrad slides across a journal and thuds against the wooden walls of the drawer. Removing it carefully, I stare at the journal. Before I can stop myself, I have picked it up and have started skimming through it.

"Did you find something?" Aela asks, suddenly at my side.

"It's Kodlak's journal," I mutter, sitting on his bed. Skipping to the last few pages, I read it aloud for Aela.

" _In my dream, I see the line of Harbingers start with Ysgramor. Each of them ascends to Sovngarde, until we come to Terrfyg, who first turned us to the ways of the beast. He tries to enter Sovngarde, but before he can even approach Tsun, he is set upon by a great wolf, who pulls him into the Hunting Grounds, where Hircine laughs with welcoming arms._

 _"Terrfyg seems regretful, but also eager to join Hircine after a lifetime of service as a beast._

 _"Then I see every next Harbinger turn away from Sovngarde and enter the Hunting Grounds of their own accord. Until it comes to me, and I see great Tsun on the misty horizon, beckoning me. It appears I have a choice. And then, at my side, a stranger I had not seen before. As I look into his eyes, we turn to see the same wolf who dragged away Terrfyg, and he and I draw weapons together._

 _"I realize this is only a dream, but a strong enough dream to inspire a man like me to take to writing, so it must be of some import."_

Aela takes the book from my hands and narrows her eyes. "This stranger… who is? Is it you?" She flips a few pages and begins reading. _"I've spoken of my thoughts to the Circle, withholding the part about the stranger lest Skjor worry I will no longer seek his counsel, and I was not surprised to see them torn by it. Skjor and Aela are strong in the ways of the beast, and even seemed to suggest that the Hunting Grounds would be their choice of afterlife, if it were truly a choice._

 _"Vilkas seemed most troubled. The boy is as fierce as a sabre cat in battle, but his heart's fire burns too brightly at times. He felt deceived, and I don't blame him. Farkas didn't know what to think, but I believe he will come around with me and his brother eventually. He usually does._

 _"I don't know what to do about Skjor and Aela. I know they respect the Companions, and me, but they take to the blood more deeply than the rest of us…._ " Aela stops and frowns. "I did not realize Kodlak wished to cleanse me of the blood." I see her teeth clench. "How _dare_ he try to make that decision for me? I knew he disliked my hunting, but I thought it was his own squeamishness, not a disdain for who I was!"

I think for a moment of what to say. "I don't think that is what he meant, Aela. Kodlak wanted the best for you, he was just short-sighted… he could not see how what you wanted was different than his own desires." I laugh, "I think it was the Nord in him. How any Nord could refuse Sovngarde was beyond his comprehension."

Aela chuckled. "The old man was stuck in his ways. I respected him for it, however." She looked back down at the journal and tapped an entry. "Oh! Kasan, it's you!"

I peer over her shoulder and continue reading.

 _"…While Vilkas was confiding, through the shadows of Jorrvaskr, I saw a newcomer approach, who wished to join our numbers. It was the stranger from my dream, the one who would stand with me against the beast. Vilkas began speaking obliquely, not wishing to air our problems in front of our guest, and I had to be doubly cautious to not reveal anything of our secrets to the newcomer while also not revealing the details of my dream to Vilkas. I don't know how the politicians deal with these sorts of machinations daily._

 _"In any case, I've sent Vilkas to test the newcomer. We'll see if he is truly the great warrior I dreamt of."_

I blink in surprise. "How are you sure it's—"

"Wait, there's more," Aela interrupts. _"…This newcomer, it seems, is made of decent stock. He calls himself Ja'Kasan, and has already impressed some of the Circle with his mettle. I still keep my own counsel on his place in my dream, for now. Let us see what kind of destiny he is carving before hitching to him."_ She skips a page. _"Ja'Kasan continues to impress. I don't know yet where he will stand on the question of the blood, but the question has not been presented yet. He does know that we carry the beastblood, and appears curious about it. Soon enough, I can explain our troubles, and hopefully see what role he will play."_

"Okay," I sigh. "Maybe it is me. I didn't realize he thought so highly of me."

"We all do." Aela says.

I turn back the page she skipped and read it aloud. _"In the meanwhile, I look for ways of cleansing my blood. The writings and legends on the subject are sparse and contradictory. I don't wish to engage any wizardry on this matter, but I fear they may be the only ones who best know how to navigate these worlds of knowledge._

 _"It's apparent to me now that Terrfyg's choice to turn us was indeed a mistake. Magics and their ilk are not in keeping with the spirit of the Companions. We face our problems directly, without the needs of such trickery. I can only hope to guide us back to the true path of Ysgramor before the rot takes me."_

I am surprised by the harshness in Kodlak's tone. Aela seems stunned as well, so I try to lighten the mood. "He would've been so proud knowing I joined the Thieves Guild."

Aela laughs. Truly, happily, laughs. "You are such a _wafiit_. If Kodlak had caught you, he would have thrown you in Dragonreach's prison himself."

"One of the Guild asked me once to steal something from Jorrvaskr," her laughter is contagious, "I asked him if he'd come to my funeral."

She snorts. "We could've had a Khajiiti rug!"

"Just imagine, every Companion for the next hundred years could look into my glass eyes and say 'What an idiot.'" I sigh. "At least I'd be known for something."

"The Greybeards would be furious."

"They could find a new Dragonborn, I'm sure. It's not like I'm the _last_." I say sarcastically.

It takes several minutes for both of us to stop, and by the time we do, both of us are crying. Not so much sad… but exhausted and happy and nostalgic tears. Aela finally takes several deep breaths and turns to the last page in Kodlak's journal.

 _"I'm amazed that Aela thinks she can keep a secret among this drunken rabble. Especially with the loss of Skjor (my heart aches), emotions are fraying, and the walls of discretion are the first to fall._

 _"Apparently she and Ja'Kasan are waging their own separate war against the Silver Hand, in retaliation for Skjor's death. Their hearts are noble, but the course of vengeance is running hot, and I fear the counterstroke that may come if they do not rein in their fury…"_

Aela trails off. "I should have known he knew. You could not fool that old man." With a shake of her head, she continues. _"Ja'Kasan shows valor, though, even in this more underhanded time. We have not had cause to speak much, and that is something I deeply regret. I have high hopes for his destiny, as I realized that his appearance in my dream may indeed mark him as the—"_ she stops.

I pick up where she left off, _"—Harbinger to succeed me."_ Aela glances up at me. "Oh. I did not realize… why me?"

Aela shrugs. "Who knows what the old man was thinking at the end. I think he saw you as something new… new blood to purify the old and set forth a new path. Though we did not agree on everything, I think Kodlak and I agreed on that: the Companions had become stale. Your arrival marked new growth and life."

I don't know how to respond to this, so I finish reading Kodlak's entry.

 _"I have received few dreams over the course of my life, but when they come, I have learned to trust them. I have also learned to trust the instincts of my heart, which tells me that Ja'Kasan can carry the Companions' legacy as truly as any residing in Jorrvaskr, especially with the loss of Skjor. Aela is too solitary, Vilkas too fiery, and Farkas too kind-hearted. Only Ja'Kasan stands as a true warrior who can keep a still mind amidst these burning hearts…"_

Frowning to not let any emotions bleed onto my face, I read over that last sentence again in my head. _I guess I have my answer now_.

 _"…I will not speak to him of any of this, though. It is too much to burden another with. My hope is that he and I can keep counsel over the coming years, that I can impart the wisdom of the Harbingers. All things in time. Firstly, I will seek his assistance in the matter of the witches of Glenmoril. It would appear that our path to the cure is not without some poetic justice for the tricksters who first cursed us."_ I finish.

"And justice was done," Aela says as she closes Kodlak's journal. "Come on, let's get the fragment to Eorlund. I think I have an idea."

* * *

 **Ta'agra translations courtesy of the Ta'agra Project:**

 _Fusi Zavna'a Nijrika in Keth_ \- Regrettable Actions Bathed in Blood, the title of this chapter.

 _Mor kha'jay! Ahziss deqe nojri_ \- Dark moons! (an oath) I need to wash off.

v _alqahlipitha -_ literally "absent tongues", translated to "those without tongues" as a phrase. Ta'agra is like German where modifiers are strung onto the front of nouns.

 _Fumbatena_ \- literally "slow-paws", a Ta'agra phrase for stupid.

 _wafiit -_ idiot.

 _Jer jetwijijri -_ You shaveskin/cut-skin. An insult to non-khajiit.

 _Jimetiit -_ milk-drinker

 _Kaaka thjiz qara va -_ What a foolish cat (derogatory) I am.

 _Shota zavozay_! - Hold still! Literally: Hold motionless!

 _Jer do? -_ Are you okay?

 _Na do_. -Literally: I am not well. Used as: I'm not okay.

 _Ahziss isha jaji eja jer -_ I love that about you

The next chapter will modify the time table of the game, which has Eorlund magically create Wuuthrad in three seconds. Then, and I actually mean it this time, that will be the last chapter.


	8. Sallidadna di Rhojrianinaraj

**Disclaimer: The Elder Scrools series, Skyrim, and related titles are property of the developers and creatives. Dialogue taken from the game via the Unofficial Elder Scrolls Pages wiki.**

 **Author's Note:** Hey Stormplains, why did it take so long- woah.

Yeah okay, it's been months. Maybe a year. I dunno. Life. But here is the final installment in all it's glory! It's about twice as long as any of the other chapters, so when reviewing, please note if you'd like me to split this chapter. Saturday, I'll be posting the epilogue.

 **Enjoy. Read. Review.**

* * *

 **Sallidadna di Rhojrianinaraj**

While Aela goes ahead of me to the Underforge, I head up to the Skyforge to find Eorlund. It's now fully night. The stars are blotted out by an inky black pillar of smoke rising from the flames. Kodlak's body still burns, but Eorlund stands at his forge, pounding metal on his anvil. As I approach, I notice that the metal he is pounding are some of the other shards of Wuuthrad. His hammer strikes the blade, producing a sound like thunder cracking across the sky. The remaining shards lay on the stone beside the forge, arranged in the shape of the axe. My fingers tingle in anticipation. _What a beautiful weapon._

Eorlund turns his head as I approach, though it takes his eyes a moment to follow. I hold out the fragment. "Thank you, boy." Eorlund mutters, taking the final piece of Wuuthrad. "A thousand years… and finally Ysgramor's weapon will be wielded again." He looks down at the half-finished blade; sweat drips from his forehead and sizzles against the metal. "Go on, join the others of the Circle. Leave me to my work."

I nod and do as he says. As I enter the Underforge, I can hear the Circle arguing.

"The old man had one wish before he died," Vilkas growls. "And he didn't get it. It's as simple as that."

"Being moon-born is not so much of a curse as you think, Vilkas." Aela retorts, venom in her voice. My eyes adjust to the low light and I see her, her back to me, slightly arched forward as if she is prepared to pounce.

Vilkas seems to see this in her stance and shifts his feet as he responds. "That's fine for you and Ja'Kasan… maybe… but he wanted to be clean—"

Farkas interrupts, his brow creasing. "What do you mean maybe—"

Vilkas ignores his brother's interruption and continues. "Kodlak wanted to meet Ysgramor and know the glories of Sovngarde. But all _that_ was taken from him the moment the Blood fell on his lips."

"That was his choice. His spirit is avenged with the destruction of the Silver Hand." Aela says.

Farkas huffs, clearly still angry about his brother's actions. "Kodlak did not care for vengeance."

Vilkas sighs and places a hand on Farkas' shoulder. "No, Farkas, he didn't. And that's not what this is about. We should be honoring Kodlak, no matter our own thoughts on the Blood."

"You're right," Aela concedes. She straightens and looks back at me. "Glad you joined us, Kasan."

I nod and take my place beside her. "While he and I did not see the Blood the same way, Kodlak treated me and my choice with respect and trust. To be free of the Blood is what he wanted, and he deserved to have it."

There is a pause. Since this is Aela's plan, I give her time to collect her thoughts and cool her blood from the argument I walked in on. "I believe there is a way we can deliver Kodlak his last wish. Ysgramor's Tomb."

"Kodlak used to speak of a way to cleanse his soul, even in death." Vilkas says, scratching his chin. "The Tomb of Ysgramor may hold the key, you know the legends. 'There the souls—"

"'—of the Harbingers will heed the call of northern steel.'" Aela finishes. "Yes, I know." She glances at me. "The legends say that every Harbinger and Companion to ever live returns to the Tomb of Ysgramor at times while wandering the afterlife. And in times of great need, Companions may call upon their predecessors there."

"We can't even enter the tomb without Wuuthrad," Farkas grunts. His anger is not directed at Aela, but at Vilkas still. The air tingles with animosity between the brothers; Vilkas' vengeance had rent a tear between them. Vilkas rubs the back of his neck and shuffles his feet, his discomfort obvious as Farkas glares at him. "The blade is in pieces, like it has been for a thousand years!"

"Eorlund has all the pieces," I say. Silence follows my words and the air begins to vibrate as though a magic-caster is about to cast _Sparks_.

Farkas blinks for a few moments. "That means…"

"We'll finally be able to enter Ysgramor's Tomb," Vilkas finishes. A smile stretches across his face. "We located the tomb awhile back, but inscriptions called for Wuuthrad to open the doors."

"How exactly do we know that will work? After all this time… the tomb could be empty," I say.

Farkas shakes his head, "There ain't no way. We tried everything we could think of to get into the tomb."

"According to you," Aela smiled. "If we go off of that, we might have bandits to fear after all, ice-brain."

Farkas sneered like a pup waiting to play, "It was Ja'Kasan who suggested that the tomb could be empty. When we get there and its intact, it'll be him we'll be calling ice-brain."

"Clever," I jab back. "How long will Eorlund take to repair the blade, anyway?"

Aela shrugs. "Eorlund's the best blacksmith in Whiterun, if not Skyrim. But a blade that shattered?"

"He'll still need a few hours," Vilkas says. "Why don't we get ready for our journey? Once we have what we need, let's meet back here."

The four of us slip out into the night, the cool air giving us new breath. As we walk into Jorrvaskr, we see the other Companions drinking about the fire. No one speaks. Vilkas and Farkas trod downstairs, but I stop. They need someone right now.

"Kasan?" Aela's voice calls behind me.

I walk to one of the tables and put my hand on the shoulder of the closest Companion, Athis. He looks up at me, his eyes swimming with sadness and rum. I squeeze his shoulder and turn back to the others. "We lost someone. Someone very important not just to us, but to the Companions. To Whiterun. Skyrim and the world has lost a good man." A few sniffle and nod their heads. "Today, while we grieve for ourselves and the world, let's also remember him. Kodlak lived a full life, one brimming with adventure and danger," I pick up an empty tankard, "and good ale!"

Several laugh and raise their tankards in response.

Athis starts to speak, "D-does anyone remember that time he sent me and Torvar to get our mead back from those braggart bandits in Redoran's Retreat? He was so mad they'd stolen the shipment intended for us that he ended up charging in there without us."

"Aye," Torvar says, "I thought he had gone mad. I've never fought with someone so fierce."

"I thought he was just an old man," Njada chuckles, "and then he whooped my arse during my first day of training."

"That right hook!"

"It always got you."

"Remember when someone called him an old man and he held a drinking contest—which he won—just to say that he wasn't?"

"Gods, I was sick for days."

"Eh, some of you are probably too old to remember—"

"Kasan," Aela tugs on my arm and nods towards the stairs.

I let her pull me away after raising someone's tankard of mead. "To Kodlak!"

"TO KODLAK!"

Jorraskr rumbles with the cheers of Companions, their storytelling bringing tears and laughs to their faces. As we walk down the stairs to the barracks, I hear some start to sing an old drinking song about the Companions.

Before I can walk past Aela's room to my cot and chest, she pulls me in and kisses me. "Kodlak was right. There's something… good… about you, Kasan. You did a good thing up there."

Flustered, I mumble, " _Rajhin kodesh…_ I uh.. _tonsh jer._ Uh, thank you. I just—"

"You do not have to explain yourself," Aela interrupts. She places a hand over my heart. " _Jer raba dosunej._ "

I feel myself blush, but my tongue is quick. " _Knunu'tu._ "

She blinks. "What?"

"For heart. We have two words for 'heart' in Ta'agra. _Sunej_ , which is a literal heart, and _khunu'tu_ , which is more of the metaphorical, empathetic heart. So saying 'you have a good heart' would be ' _jer raba dokhunu'tu._ "

One corner of her mouth turns up, and her eyes look at me in a way that makes my _sunej_ skip. I want to kiss her again. Before I can move, she strokes the side of my face. "Thank you for the grammar lesson, _qedin-liter._ "

She steps back and I say, breathless, "Any time _qedin-roliter_."

Aela gives me a knowing smirk and waves her hand toward the door. "Go. Get ready."

"Aela, I—" I do not know what I mean to say to her. Too much is happening.

" _Pack._ Then come back."

I do as I'm told, emptying my bag into my chest and digging through my belongings. I want to travel light, so I grab only my potions, Kodlak's journal, and some rations. I decide to bring my Companions wolf armor as well, but select some fur armor from traveling I probably lifted off a Silver Hand. The thought makes me shiver for a moment, but I shimmy into it. The fur caps my shoulders and smells mostly of road-dirt. I cleaned it, as I always do, on my way back to Jorrvaskr. I do not select a silver sword to carry as irony, but arrange the weapons of our enemy on my bed for other Companions to see (or take if they want). One final act of restoration for Kodlak.

Having finished, I return to Aela's door and knock on the open frame. She seems to have the same ideas as I: she's set aside several healing potions, bottles of mead, and enough meat to last us a week. On top of her bag sits her wolf helmet.

"Are you ready?" She asks, turning.

I raise my bag in response.

"Good, close the door. I wish to speak to you before we return."

I close the door and watch her pack the remainder of her things into her pack. She places it on the floor and sits on the edge of the bed. She wears gray leather armor I've never seen before, and it softens her as if she were younger than she is. Her eyes do not focus on the spot on the floor which she stares at.

"Trying out a new fashion?" I tease, sitting next to her.

She gives a small smile. "This is the armor I wore for my Trial years ago. I've… I've kept modifying it through the years, for a reason I couldn't understand but I see it now. What better armor to wear to honor Kodlak? I met him in this armor."

I tug at a bit of fur which juts from the shoulders. "It is fine armor. A good time for memories."

She nods. "I am afraid, however, that I will lose it when I transform. That happens sometimes."

"I will make sure you have it," I say, placing a hand on her shoulder.

Aela takes my hand and drags it to her far shoulder. Leaning into my chest, she nestles her head in the hide. I wrap my other arm around her.

"Everything is moving so fast." She speaks softly, as if she did not want me to hear. Impulsively, I kiss the top of her head. It feels natural. She does not flinch, but presses into me. "Kasan, I—"

A loud banging on her door interrupts her. "Oi! You ready?" It's Farkas.

Aela pushes away from me and scoffs. "I'll be there in a minute, ice-brain! Eorlund's not that fast."

I hear boots shuffle away. Aela sighs. "Well," I start to stand, "we better not keep them—"

Aela pulls me back down. "Just… just lay with me a moment," she says, her eyes darting between mine. I see color rise behind her cheeks.

I brush my knuckles across her cheek, gaining a smile. "Sure."

She positions me against the wall and places her body in front of mine. After a few moments of finding how our bodies mesh together, I have one arm draped over her and the other cradling my head. Aela wraps her arms around mine and pulls me closer, partially on top of her. It's nothing… _sexual_ … just… close. I find myself closing my eyes. After so long, I am comfortable.

* * *

"Kasan, Kasan!"

I open my eyes to see Aela in front of me. She's knealing beside her bed with a smile. "Come on, sleepy-head. We need to get down to the Underforge. I'm sure they think we're already late enough."

"How long-?"

"Not that long, don't worry." She brushes the fur over my brow. "Thank you, _tonsh jer_."

"No thanks needed, I would do anything for you, Aela." I say as I sit up. Stretching my arms over my head, I notice a strange expression flicker over Aela's face. And she smiles.

* * *

Waiting in the Underforge was less fun than waiting in Aela's room. Less sleeping too. I wiggle my way into a spot between two rocks, using some random clothes I found in a chest practically buried in the back of the cave as pillows. The other members of the Circle, however, are much more content with arguing over how they are going to navigate through Ysgramor's Tomb, or even if it will open for us.

"Look, I'm just saying it's been a long time," Farkas grunts. "Anything coulda happened in thousands of years. How do we even know we have all the pieces of Wuuthrad? It's been shattered for centuries!"

Aela opens her mouth to interrupt the tension but, at that moment, the door to the Underforge slides open.

"And dragons were just stories. And the elves once ruled Skyrim," Eorlund's voice echoes around the stone chamber. The stone slides into place with a _thud_. "Just because something is, doesn't mean it must be."

As his footsteps clank against the stone, I sit up and see it in his hands. Wuuthrad whole again. The blade does not gleam, its metal dully reflects the firelight like a smooth stone at the bottom of a stream. My fingers flex involuntarily, my mind imagining wielding the blade. It is a double-bladed axe made of ancient Nord steel with a spike jutting out between the blades. The long handle mimics the grain of wood and stands as tall as my chest. A howling Altmeri face bridges the gap between the blades, and seeing it sends a shiver down my spine.

 _This is the weapon used in The Return, that carved Tamriel for man. Forged of tears and lightning. Slayer of a thousand mer. This blade was wielded by the most influential man of the First Era… the Companions are only here because of him._

"Is that…?" Vilkas starts. He looks at me, a smile spreading over his face and fire dancing in his eyes. I can see the Blood rising to the surface. I feel my own blood heat as I stand. "Did you repair the blade?"

Eorlund balances the blade in his hands. "This is the first time I've had all the pieces, thanks to our Shield-Brother here." He walks forward and grips the axe as though he is ready to strike. With a tightening of his grip, he swings the blade through the air twice before standing it in front of him between his feet. The old man recites an old prophecy, " _'The flames of a hero can reforge the shattered.'_ The flames of Kodlak shall fuel the rebirth of Wuuthrad. And now, it will take you to meet him once more."

The Underforge is silent, my lungs are afraid to expand as if the slightest noise of breath may shatter the reality. For a brief moment, Aela's fingers find my hand and wrap around my thumb. Energy like lightning passes between us.

Eorlund looks at me. "As the one who bore the fragments, I think you should be the one to carry Wuuthrad into battle." He hefts the blade and tilts it to me.

I open my mouth but no sound comes out. My tongue feels like sandpaper.

Aela nudges me with her elbow. "Go on, Kasan. Take it."

"You've earn the honor. I couldn't imagine anyone more worthy, Kodlak would want it." Vilkas adds.

Farkas grunts an affirmative.

I take it without a word.

"The rest of you," Eorlund says, "prepare to journey to the Tomb of Ysgramor. For Kodlak."

"For Kodlak!" Aela yells, drawing her knife. Vilkas and Farkas grin, following suit. They run toward the exit as Aela grabs my hand. "Come on, _qedin-liter_. They will surely sing of this one."

I laugh and allow myself to be pulled forward. She yanks my head down quickly and kisses me before I can react. Then she smiles like a _renrijra_ and takes off. My heart pounds in my head and I can only watch her for several seconds. Then I chase after her, laughing like a _wafiit_. My Shield-Siblings and I fly through the streets of Whiterun, drawing cries of caution from the guards. But we can hardly hear. Our blood runs hot.

When Farkas and Vilkas reach the Whiterun stables, Vilkas stops and looks up at my horse. He shouts something at his brother and both grin at me as I run by. I turn around and skip to a stop, "What?"

"Mind if we borrow him, Ja'Kasan?" Farkas shouts. Vilkas has already started mounting my horse.

"My horse is a girl, and you may if you need the help!" I yell back.

Farkas throws his head back and laughs. "As if I need it. For my brother, however." Vilkas' leg must still be bothering him.

"Drop your pack, and have Aela do the same." Vilkas commands from his perch. "We will strap your packs to the saddle. Should make it easier for you to go on foot."

I do as he says and grin. "I'll let Aela know."

"Don't cry if we beat you there, whelp!" Farkas teases.

A growl rumbles in my chest at the challenge and my blood rushes hot once more. I pull my hide breastplate over my head, knocking my helmet off, and toss it on the ground. A cry of surprise escapes Farkas, but I ignore him. Leaning forward, I charge after Aela, catching up with her in a few moments. She glances over at me and smiles, the wind whipping her hair in front of her face.

"The night is beautiful." Her eyes glow orange in the low light of _sunosrenaz_. She is close to changing, the beast barely held in place. "By the time the sun breaks the sky in two days, Kodlak's soul will be at peace." Her voice rumbles with anticipation. "A final hunt for Kodlak… and with Wuuthrad! The blade has not seen battle since Ysgramor himself wielded it. To think, you will wield it today!" Suddenly, the muscles in her neck ripple and her limbs flex. A snarl escapes her lips and for a moment she pitches forward. As she straightens, she apologizes, "Almost lost it there."

I bite my lip and try to take a deep breath as we run. Just beneath my skin, I feel the beast. His heat radiates from my veins to my muscles to the ends of my hairs. At Aela's admittance of weakness, her near shift… I feel the beast gain ground. And that scares me.

Before I can open my mouth to speak my fears to Aela, the brothers thunder by on my horse. The horse snorts like a frost troll in the Elsweyr sun, weighed down by the two Nords.

Vilkas jeers as they pass, "Mammoths move faster than you two! By the time you reach the tomb, Kodlak will be drinking in Sovngarde."

"Pick up the pace!" Farkas yells.

Their jeers prick my already thin skin and I feel a claw tear through. My eyes sharpen in focus; the warm scent of the Honningbrew Meadery burns in my nostrils. To gain more speed, I lean forward, kicking my boots off as I tear after the brothers. Something cracks in my spine, but I push through the strange sensation of far-off pain. The faster I run, the easier my breathing becomes. I am only a few paces behind the horse when Farkas glances back.

The smile slips off his face.

I hear Farkas swear as I pass him, but barely take notice. Blood roars in my ears. My claws tear the ground for more purchase, propelling me forward.

"Aela!" Vilkas shouts, a tone of panic in his voice. It sounds eerily familiar to when we were in Driftshade Refuge. I turn my head to either side to see if we were under ambush from foreign sources, but my vision, piercing through the dark of night, catches nothing odd.

"I know!" Aela roars back. I can hear her footfalls behind me, but too far back to catch up with me. Something falls on the road with a clatter. "Kasan! By the Nine, _dok wafa Khajiit!_ "

I raise my head and laugh, but the sound that escapes my throat is a yip. That sound nearly stops me in my tracks. Panic floods my head and I trip, sending my head skidding against the stone as my tail swerves above me. By the time I've stopped, Aela is beside me.

She reaches a cautious hand forward and my eyes follow it wearily. The beast fears what she will do. I fear her judgement. I have transformed without a thought, and upon realizing this, all the guilt I have felt comes rushing back. Aela's hand falls on my shoulder and my chest heaves a sob. For a few moments, she only strokes my fur. Then she takes her other hand and raises my head from the ground.

"Are you okay, Kasan?" She asks, her voice soft like the wind whispering through a hollow tree. I squeeze my eyes shut and nod. My limbs feel leaden from the weight of the Blood. Aela says nothing for several moments. Then, "You have to get up, Kasan."

I whimper in response. But I open my eyes.

Concern marks her face, her eyes focused on something in front of our path. Vilkas and Farkas come alongside, both looking toward what I cannot see. When I make as to lift my head, Aela gently presses it back down.

"Guards…" Farkas mutters.

My heart jolts.

"We'll head them off." Vilkas says. "Aela, get Ja'Kasan off the road. Stay off until his transformation ends, we'll regroup in Dawnstar." Vilkas digs something out of one of the saddlebags. "Oh, and Aela, take this. For when Ja'Kasan transforms back." It is a bundle of furs. My armor. Aela takes them along with her pack.

Farkas hops down from the horse and the two walk forward to intercept the guards. Aela glances down at me. "Can you get up?"

I nod. She rises into a crouch as I pull myself up. Together, we slink into the trees boarding the road and start to sneak by where Farkas and Vilkas have stopped the guards. Snatches of their conversation drift past us, but from what I can tell, the guards do not suspect anything strange.

We travel like this, slinking through the shadows, for about an hour. Then the familiar tug of the end of my transformation pulls at my navel and I stop. My bones compress and shrink in a matter of moments and the transformation leaves me shivering on the ground. Aela pulls a cloak from her pack and wraps it around my shoulders as she pulls me up into a sitting position. Before I can stop myself, I'm crying and allowing Aela to pull me close. Her hand strokes the fur behind my ear as I wrap my arms around her midsection. Words are whispered into my ear, encouraging things, but they wash over me without notice.

I manage to stutter out a few words. "How could this happen?"

"Your blood was running hot, all of ours was." Aela answers.

"But why…" I pull away and sit up. Taking a deep breath, I swipe at the tears on my cheeks. "Why am I the only one who seems to lose control?"

"You aren't, Kasan." Aela shifts closer to me. "I nearly lost it tonight. Farkas, despite his best efforts, transformed when you two went to Dustman's Cairn and were confronted by the Silver Hand. Vilkas has a fortified mind, but only through rigorous practice over the last two years. You have not had the time or the practiced discipline for it." She pauses. "I also think the recent loses in your life has made your emotions more raw, more vulnerable to dipping into your transformations.

"When you and Vilkas left to avenge Kodlak, I ran the countryside. I held it together, mostly, for the others, but that night I could not. Things are… _easier_ , within the Blood. The beast does not feel emotions as we do. It can be an escape, Kasan. But do not allow it to become your prison."

I nod, turning my face up to look at the stars. Dawn's light creeps toward the horizon, casting a blue hue over the sky. Taking a deep breath, I look down at Aela.

"You're amazing, you know that? And wise beyond your years. I don't know what I would do without you."

Alea looks away hastily, but even in the low light I see the color darken her cheeks. The small action makes me smile.

"Come," she says, placing the bundle of clothes in front of me. "Get dressed. We're nearly to Dawnstar. Then maybe we can get some rest at the inn."

* * *

We push through the sudden snow storm that kicks ice into my eyes. By the time we reach the inn, ice has crystalized around my eyes, ears, and nose, but I rub the frost off. A newly painted sign swings in the gale, a mountain with a halo of blue around it and the words "Windpeak Inn." As Aela opens the door, I notice my horse is tied to a post outside, looking miserable as she stamps her hooves. Someone, at least, has had the decency to place a blanket over her and place her in the nook between the wall and the other set of stairs.

Shaking the ice from my fur, I step through the door and breathe in the dryness of the inn. Vilkas and Farkas sit at a table eating and drinking, both with creased brows. As they see us, however, their expressions break into grins.

"Shield-siblings!" Faraks yells, rushing towards us. Before Aela or I can respond, he wraps us in a bear hug. "I am glad you made it."

"Would we not?" I gasp.

He releases us and shrugs, glancing at his brother. "Sabre cats can get rather desperate this time of year."

I look around us and notice the whole inn, which includes several guards and townspeople, are staring at us. I clear my throat and nod. "Well, I'm going to see about getting us a room and some food. Aela?"

"Right, yes." She walks beside me up to the counter.

A Nord with reddish hair looks up from wiping a goblet. He gives us a lazy smile, only one of his eyes focusing on us. "Oh, do you need a room? It's ten gold a head."

"Yes, please."

"Of course! Now, uh, we only have one room available, those other two took the other open room. Is that…" he glances between the two of us and rubs the back of his neck. "Are the two of you okay with that? We can always pull out a sleeping bag for the c—ahem, for you sir."

I grit my teeth. "That would be—"

Aela holds up her hand. "We don't need one, but thank you. Twenty for the room?"

The man nods, extending his hand to her but not taking his eyes off me. "So you two, uh. Are you two—?"

"Together? Yes. Now can you just show us to our room?" Aela crosses her arms over her chest, and I hear a growl rumbling in her throat.

I look over my shoulder at Vilkas and Farkas where the two brothers are clutching their sides and holding in laughter. As we pass them to go to our room, Farkas whispers, "Don't let Aela eat him. Oh and, sleep tight."

"Very tight," Vilkas nearly chokes on his drink from his own joke.

Aela immediately closes the door after the inn keeper leaves the room. "I'm really sorry about him."

I shrug. It's not the first time.

She shakes her head and rummages through the wardrobe and chest for sleeping clothes. She tosses black robes nibbled on by moths to me, and drapes a cotton shirt and trousers over her arm. I hold up the robes and raise an eyebrow.

"You're too tall," she says. "Now strip. I want to sleep."

I turn around to face the wall and start pulling off my armor. I hear the rustle of fabric passing over skin and force myself to stare ahead.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I mutter under my breath, " _Khrassozay qojiit_ ," cursing my cowardice.

"Did you say something?"

"Just, 'what a day it's been.'" I turn slightly to see Aela already dressed. I kick off my boots. "So, how are we doing this?"

"Like we were in my quarters. Up against the wall with you." Aela begins blowing out the candles.

Her head rests under my chin and her toes reach out and grab the fur at my ankles. I don't know how quickly she falls asleep, but it takes me a little while. My heartrate slows immediately but my mind races. She is good at distracting me, but I am still worried about how easily I lost control today. If Kodlak can be cured, so can I. But as my eyes begin to close, a thought passes my mind.

 _Is it really the beast? Or just me losing control?_

* * *

Farkas and I pass the time traveling singing various drinking songs. I have to teach him the Ta'agra words as Cyrodilic so he can understand the jokes, but I hear Alea chuckle at the initial Ta'agra words. We stop and make camp for a short rest before continuing on to Ysgramor's Tomb.

Dusk approaches. We have to skirt around the rocky ledges of the Skyrim north and make our way to the tomb over the northern beaches. The Sea of Ghosts stretches beside us and the wind howls. I squint through the rosy light and swirling pink snow to see a short, stony mound rise out of the snow. Four hawkish totems guard the cardinal points.

"This is it," I breath, turning to the others.

"Aye," Vilkas says. They all grin like kids with sweet rolls. We walk to the top of the mound then down the short, spiral staircase. Twin heavy iron doors guard the entrance, and the brothers wrench them open, the doors' screams sounding like Companion battlecries.

"This is the resting place of Ysgramor and his most trusted generals. You should be cautious," Vilkas warns as we walk inside. Snow swirls inside at our heels, and a mist clings to the rocks. A short passage way opens into a round chamber. Two braziers burn beside an 8-foot-tall statue of Ysgramor, his horned helm nearly brushing the ceiling. I pause to study the statue as the others fan out into the room.

"So this isn't just Ysgramor's Tomb?" I ask, running a claw over the intricate carvings of the statue.

"No," Vilkas says somewhere behind me, "it's also the final resting place of the original Companions. Their fnest warriors rest with Ysgramor. You'll have to prove yourselves to them." He chuckles, "It's not that you're intruding, in fact, I'd wager they've actually expected us."

"What do you mean, 'prove yourselves'?"

"They just want to be sure that you're worthy. The legends warn that only the strongest may enter. Be ready for an honorable battle!"

I turn to find Vilkas; he leans against one of the pillars, smirking. I set my bag down and start pulling out my wolf armor. "No, I meant what do you mean 'yourselves'? Are you not coming in with us?"

Shadows fall over his eyes as he looks away. "Kodlak was right. I let vengeance rule my heart. I regret nothing of what we did at Driftshade… but I can't go any further with my mind fogged or my heart grieved."

"Brother…" Farkas walks up to him.

"No, there is no arguing." Vilkas shakes his head. "I know it would not be right."

I look to Farkas and Aela. "What about you two?"

"I'm with you to the end, Shield-Brother!" Farkas clanks a hand over his chest.

Aela smirks, the fire dancing in her eyes. "For Kodlak!"

I nod, smiling, and turn back to Vilkas. "So how do we get in?"

"Return Wuuthrad to Ysgramor," Vilkas points to the statue. "It should open the way."

We take a few minutes to compose ourselves, organize our supplies, and switch armor. As I slide my helmet on, Aela hefts Wuuthrad and extends it to me. I take it and replace the weapon in Ysgramor's hands.

The far wall rumbles and a stone falls into the floor.

"For Kodlak!" Vilkas roars.

I lift Wuuthrad out of Ysgramor's hands. "By your honor, I think I need this more than you."

Aela rushes ahead down the passage and disposes of two skeevers before either I or Farkas reach her. She spins her dagger and smiles. "Just getting the easy ones."

As we enter the first room, I feel a chill go down my spine and my hairs stand on end. My grip tightens on Wuuthrad. I pad my way into the room and see spectral figures peak out from behind a pillar. They are Nords, I can tell from their bones, but they have a somewhat foreign look to them. Their armor resembles the ancient Nord armor Aela wears, and they wear helmets with curved horns. Their skin is blue and if I don't focus, I can see right through them.

Both figures smile, their teeth as blue as their skin. "So you believe you are worthy?" They draw their swords, wicked blades with spikes and teeth.

"Well let's see _jetwijiijri'a_!" I yell, launching myself at the one on the right. The ghost blocks my strike but an arrow pierces between her eyes. She dissipates and before I can turn to the other one, I see Farkas stab his sword through the ghost's stomach, lifting him into the air, and the ghost dissolves into mist.

I see the ghosts in the next chamber as soon as we open the doors. Two stand outside their burial coffins across the room, their weapons hanging loosely at their sides. As we walk toward them, a third ghost steps from her coffin with a stern, "Who dares disturb our rest?"

Aela leaps around me, throwing her shield in front of her. The ghost stumbles as the shield smacks her, and Aela stabs her dagger into the ghost's neck. Farkas howls as he tears across the chamber, his sword sweeping the ground as he arches it over his head. In a blink, the ghost vanishes beneath two swipes of his blade. A sharp pain in my shoulder causes me to turn. The remaining ghost has drawn a bow, and the arrow that leaves it flickers for a moment before becoming corporal. I feel myself topple backwards as his second arrow strikes my shoulder full-on. Farkas bellows and there is a short yell of pain from the ghost, then silence.

"Kasan!" Aela stands over me.

"I'm fine," I grunt, taking her hand to help pull me up. Taking a deep breath, I yank the arrow from my shoulder. Farkas tosses me a healing potion, and I rub a little on the cut from the first arrow and the bleeding hole in my shoulder before drinking it.

"Right in between the chinks in your armor," Farkas says as he inspects my wound. "I guess they are the first Companions."

"Their arrows definitely hurt like it." I roll my shoulder, testing its movement before we continue. "They go down easy, but we should avoid getting hit by them if we can help it."

Farkas leads the way down the next passage, running a hand over the crumbling stone. "There's much to study here once we're done."

"You? A scholar?" Aela teases.

"Eh, well my brother will think so." Farkas steps into the next chamber, a room lined with coffins. Water has gathered on the floor and tree roots stretch across the ceiling into the shallow pool. He walks down a set of stairs into the water and his footsteps announce our presence. Spectral figures step out from their coffins. We're outnumbered five-to-one. "Uh, Kasan? You Khajiit got a phrase for this?"

I swear, " _Ziss_."

" _Ziss_ works," Aela confirms, drawing her bow. She fires an arrow before the ghosts can take another step, and I see one buckle, wisps of ghostly matter torn apart from an unseen breeze. I pulled my bow from my shoulders.

"We Nords just say f-ahhh!" He shrieks as an arrow pierces his bicep. As he starts to rip the arrow from his arm, Aela fires two arrows faster than I can blink, and there is a splash across the room, then a sigh.

Farkas grit his teeth beside us, and I can hear his grip tighten on the leather. Several ghosts have drawn bows, and the rest have started after us. Aela and I set our sights. Aela lets go again and a ghost across the chamber yowls. My arrow pins a ghost to his coffin before he dissolves. As I drag another arrow across my bow, I hear splashing to the left. Three ghosts charge at Farkas. He takes a step toward them and plants his feet. My arrow makes one of them stumble, but the other two keep coming. He swipes at the closest, but the wound on his arm makes him slow to guard against the axe of the second. The axe cuts into his shoulder, and he whirls around and takes the ghost's head off with and under-handed sweep. I release another arrow, and it fells the ghost rounding on Farkas. His sword downs the other.

"Kasan!" Aela yells. I whip my head back to front and see the ghosts are closing in on us. She's taken out maybe seven, but five remain.

I swear and rapidly shoot three arrows, merely causing two ghosts to roll to the side. I draw Wuuthrad and charge forward. "YOL TORR!" I shout, fire spiraling before me. A ghost swears, but her form disappears. Wuuthrad swings through the air and crashes into the shoulder of the closest Companion spirit. The Companion falls, but gets a good swipe at my ankle before Wuuthrad dissipates him.

" _Mor kha'jay_!" I suck in a breath, feeling hot blood splash into my boots. I can't do anything, however, because another ghost launches herself at me. Her mace glances off my armor, but I stumble.

Farkas roars and tackles the ghost before she can raise her mace again. Aela is suddenly at my back, and I hear the dull _thud_ of a weapon striking a shield. Her familiar war cry fills the air and I hear a _smack_ followed by two wet _splosh_ sounds. As I turn, a ghost swings his sword high over his head. I raise Wuuthrad horizontally to catch his sword and the ghostblade strikes the handle. For a moment, we glare in each other's eyes, then a massive blade tip pierces his chest. He withers with a sigh.

"That's the last of them," Farkas grunts. I feel my shoulders start to slump as Farkas sheathes his sword. His eyes scan me, stopping at my ankle. I follow his gaze. The ankle and heel of my boot is stained crimson. "By the Nine. Aela!" He rushes forward and scoops me off my feet.

"Woah, hey!"

He sets me down on the nearest steps. Before I can move, he takes off my boot. I close my eyes swiftly. The sight of blood dripping from my fur makes me sick. Reminds me of other people's blood. Fingers curve around the back of my neck, I smell leather and sweat, Aela's sweat, and I relax. Farkas pours liquid that burns over my ankle and the sweet smell of Honningbrew Mead fills my nose.

"Please tell me that isn't our last."

Farkas laughs, "Shut up. Be happy I'm keeping you from bleeding out." I stay silent as he mops up the mead and blood, wrapping my ankle tightly. "You can open your eyes." I do, and see he's done a good job. I test my ankle by wiggling it. He laughs and digs a healing potion out of his bag. "Here you go, whelp."

I drink half and pass it back to him, he drinks the rest. "Shall we go on?"

"Yep."

The three of us walk to the back of the chamber. Spider webs span the corners of the stone, and several large egg sacs sit along the wall. The doorway leading further into the tomb is clogged with spider webs. Farkas stops suddenly.

Aela turns. "What is it, Shield-Brother?"

Farkas's brow creases and he gives a lop-sided smile. "I can't go any further."

"What's the matter?" I ask.

He stares at the webs over the doorway. "Ever since Dustman's Cairn, the big crawly ones have been too much for me." He laughs. "Everyone has his weakness, and this one is mine. I'm not proud, but I will stay back with Vilkas. Maybe we can start studying the tomb."

"Are you sure?" I don't want to leave him behind. Like any of us, this place is sacred to him. But I see the color has drained from his face, and his fingers twitch.

He nods. "Here, take this. I drew the short straw while you were wolfed-up." He pulls a canvas bag from the inside of his pack. It looks to hold something round, about the size of a cabbage. I shiver as I take it. It's one of the witches' heads. "Give my regards to Ysgramor."

"We'll be sure to clear out all the spiders so you can see it later, okay?" Aela says.

"I would like that," Farkas says. He claps us both on the shoulder, then jogs back toward the entrance.

"And then there were two," I mutter. Aela chuckles. "Well, here we go…" I draw Wuuthrad and slash at the webbing.

Perhaps it is best Farkas has left. The clicking starts immediately, and as soon as I cut through the webs, I feel frostbit venom splash over my chest plate. Grimacing, I shoulder my way forward and slash at the first crawly I see. Soon the air fills with spider shrieks as Aela and I cut through the spiders clogging the halls. I let Aela get ahead of me and conjure flames in both hands, torching the webs and egg sacs as we pass.

"Ugh!"

I blast the last bit of webbing and turn toward Aela's voice. She shakes webbing from her arm. "I think I understand why Farkas turned back."

"Not getting cold feet are we?" I tease.

She rolls her eyes, walking toward the doorway of the chamber. An iron gate blocks the opening, but a pull chain is in the wall beside. She tugs at it and crouches down. I follow suit and we pad our way forward. Mist clings to the floor, and I feel we are getting close. A ghost leaps out from behind a pillar and Aela rolls to avoid the swipe of his greatsword. I jab the point of Wuuthrad at him, and when he hops back, Aela drags her dagger across his throat. His form fades.

As we continue, the hall widens into a catacomb with carved-out hollows holding the dead Companions. Some are wrapped, some are fully armored, some rest inside black coffins. And some walk the floor, dragging blue mist behind their spectral forms. Aela and I draw our bows and make quick work of them.

"We've got to be almost there, right?" I groan, the pain in my ankle starting to irritate me.

Aela squeezes my hand. "Use some of that sparkly magic, Kasan. Or did you learn nothing while away from the Companions?"

" _Ha ha_." But I curl my fingers and mutter the words under my breath. Gold light swirls around my claws and spins toward my ankle. I can tell the gash starting to stitch itself close because it itches.

The ceiling above arches, and we walk up a set of stairs to a heavy ironwork door. I take a deep breath, rolling my shoulders. We shove the doors open. This chamber is darker, and the blue mist hangs in the air. As I breathe, I smell dust and the sharp scent of ectoplasm: the mix of vinegar and rust.

" _Ziss_."

Aela sniffs and repeats the curse. She preps an arrow. "This is the first time I've smelled them."

"Me too." I crouch and notch an arrow.

As we creep forward, magic candles part the mist, their eternal flames creating an orange halo. Moss clings to the ribbing arches overhead, but I notice various carvings in the stone. Pictures of armies with horned helmets clashing with elves with blood dripping from their weapons. Fires. Chaos. At the end of the hall, a small podium stands under a carving of Ysgramor with his epic beard. Here, the carvings depict order, the army raising their weapons in cheers. On the podium, a small handle sits.

"This has to be it, there's no other way through this chamber," Aela says.

I nod and lift the handle. We spin toward a grating noise on our left, Aela jogging forward. She turns with a grin. "This is it, Kasan! For Kodlak!"

The ghosts in this last chamber are tougher than the previous, but still no match to Companions with a purpose. We walk up a set of stone stairs to a wooden door, rubbing small dabs of healing potion into our wounds. I lay a hand on Aela and raise my other, mumbling healing words and watching as a gash on her check closes. She rolls her neck and jumps once.

" _Ahzirr khi_?" I ask.

"Yes, I'm ready."

We yank the doors open. The blue mist parts before us, revealing a huge chamber with mossy stairs leading to platforms in each corner of the room. A large door rests against the far wall and in the center of the room sits a basin ablaze with blue flame. I feel myself start to lower my bow as I approach the flame. As we step into the depressed circle surrounding the basin, another ghost flickers into being, his hands outstretched over the fire. I jump and raise my bow. His face seems familiar.

"Kodlak?"

The ghost turns. "Greetings, Shield Brother."

His voice is so young. I realize I am looking at Kodlak in his prime, his eyes clear (though blue) and his voice strong enough to Shout.

"Kodlak," Aela inches up behind me, "is that you?"

He turns toward her and tilts his head. Through the blue it is hard to tell his expression, but he seems to frown. "Of course. My fellow Harbingers and I have been warming ourselves here… trying to evade Hircine."

I look around, but see no other ghosts. "But… there's nobody else here."

"You see only me because you heart knows only me as the Companions' leader." He rubs his hands again and laughs. "I'd wager old Vignar could see half a dozen of my predecessors… And I see them all. The ones in Sovngarde. The ones trapped with me in Hircine's realm."

I glance at Aela. She shrugs. "The afterlife is a strange place."

Kodlak chuckles, though the sound is hollow as if he is tired. "That it is. The other Harbingers see you too. You've brought honor to the name of the Companions… both of you. We won't soon forget it."

Aela bows her head. "Thank you. But as to why we're here…"

"Vilkas said you can still be cured," I say.

Kodlak tilts his head again. "Did he now? I can only hope. You still have the witches' heads?"

I unsling my pack and draw the small, bloody bag out.

"Excellent! Throw that onto the fire. It will release their magic, for me at least."

Kodlak takes a step back as I lob the head into the fire. The flames lick greedily at the bag and soon expose the witch's ugly head, her hair withering in the fire. Something cracks and the air suddenly smells like blood.

"Ahhhgghh!"

"Kodlak!" Aela screams.

I draw Wuuthrad and turn back to Kodlak. He claws at his chest, falling to his knees. Red light pours out of him, seeping into the floor around him like blood.

A voice as melodic as the howling wolf tears through the room, piercing my ears. **"Oh prey, what have you done? Rejected my gift? You will find it is not so easily destroyed."**

"Please tell me you hear the voice, Aela," I groan. She grits her teeth and nods. The blue light dances across her face, the shadows of her brow in stark contrast to her eyes, now glowing orange. "This is probably a bad place to change!"

"I'm not trying to, it's just—"

The walls rumble and Kodlak screams again. The red light no longer oozes from his chest, but has started to solidify next to him into a creature with four legs. Kodlak's form rises into the air and a shockwave tears through the air. I am on my butt before I can do anything.

"Help me destroy it!" Kodlak yells.

Aela pulls me up by my armpits. "Kasan, it's—"

"It's his wolf spirit." A massive wolf made of the red light stands before us, its tongue lolling out of his mouth. It's eyes land on us and it crouches, hackles bristling. "Move. _Move_!"

We roll out of the way of the first pounce and scramble upright. Aela gets three arrows into its shoulder before it rounds on us. I brace Wuuthrad and catch the beast as it rears into the air, it's jaws snapping at my face. No heat emanates from its mouth, but I can remember the feeling of facing off against a senche tiger once when I was younger, her teeth and hot breath in my face. I do not wish to repeat the experience of the bite.

"Aela!"

I hear several thuds: arrows finding their mark. The beast howls in pain, giving me the chance to break my hold and slash at it. The Wolf spirit turns to Aela first, dashing to either side then tackling her. She screams and a moment later I tear the wolf off of her. Blood runs down her shoulder from teeth imprints. Tears blot her eyes as her other hand moves to hold the shoulder.

"I don't think it went through," Aela groans. "Just finish the Wolf!"

I turn and raise Wuuthrad. The Wolf paces in front of me, its jaws dripping blood. It seems to smile. I run at it and slash Wuuthrad across its hide. Blood coats the axe's blade as it separates from its mass. I whirl around in time to have the Wolf flatten me on my back. My heart hammers in my chest. I've seen what our Beasts could do. What could it do in its purest form? How much pain could the animal do unhinged?

As I struggle against it, I feel the doubt creep back into my mind. What _could_ it do? I had seen it, felt it. _Been_ it. The curse had done so much damage to our lives, to other people. _I can't even handle my own Beast, how am I supposed to take care of Kodlak's?_

But then I look into the eyes of the Wolf, and I see what it truly is. Every bad thing about Kodlak. His pride, his stubbornness, his anger. It is him. Hircine's gift wasn't the Beast. It was the ability to take every terrible thing about yourself, the enemy within, and use it as something not self-destructive. It was giving the side of you that you hated a purpose. Forcing you to learn to control the worst parts of you.

 **"Ah, you see now, don't you child? Perhaps there is hope for you yet."**

Kodlak was proud, but I am not. I shove my forearm against the Wolf's windpipe and fumble for the spare dagger at my waist. As the Beast launches forward again, I jab my knife under its ribs and twist. The Wolf falls to its side and I bring Wuuthrad down on its neck. The red light shimmers for a moment, then fades away.

" _Kha'jay krimir iso jer, Kasan!_ " Aela shouts. "You did it!"

I kneel beside her, laying a hand on her injured shoulder to heal it. Once the blood stops flowing, I pull her up and we walk over to Kodlak.

"Your beast spirit is dead, Kodlak," I say.

He nods, "And so slain the beast inside of me. I thank you for this gift. The other Harbingers remain trapped by Hircine, though." He turns his head and smiles at something we cannot see. "Perhaps from Sovngard, the heroes of old can join me in their rescue. _The Harrowing of the Hunting Grounds_! It would be a battle of such triumph. And perhaps, some day, you'll join us in that battle… but for today, return to Jorrvaskr. Triumph in your victory!"

Kodlak rests a hand on my shoulder, the touch like ice. "And lead the Companions to further glory."

"Wait, what?" I ask.

He smiles, wide enough for his teeth to show, but does not answer my question. Instead, his form dissolves as if blown away by some unseen wind.

"Did I hear right? Did he say _you_ were to lead the Companions?" She looks at the spot where Kodlak vanished.

I scratch the back of my head. "I think so? He could have been a little more clear."

Aela chuckles, "Kodlak loved platitudes. You've earned the right to be Harbinger. Your strength and honor are apparent to all. And it's my honor to be the first to address you as Harbinger… Ra'Kasan."

"Oh don't get formal, Aela," I tease. "I feel like an old cat."

"You are."

"Hey!"

She laughs, "Come on, let's go tell the others. 'Ra' is the correct title for you as a leader, correct?"

"Yes, I'm impressed you remembered."

Alea stashes her bow. "Of course I did. You used it for Skjor, I would never forget that."

"Do you think we did the right thing? Curing Kodlak, I mean."

Aela pauses near the door we came in. After a moment, she nods. "Yes. He and I may have not seen eye-to-eye, but he wanted to be cured. I'm glad we could give it to the old man." Her eyes focus on the blue flames. "You can return here and cure yourself too, I'd imagine."

I look back toward the flames and shake my head. "I'm not sure I want to."

"Really?" She does well to suppress the hope in her voice.

"I realized something about… about the Beast. It's not really separate, is it? It's us. The Beast is the dark side of our spirits, our pride, our anger. The Beast shows us our shortcomings and challenges us to control them." I turn to Aela. "I'm emotional, sensitive. It's alright but sometimes I lose myself in my emotions, especially pain and anger. I came to Skyrim running from the pain after my father's death, I ran after Skjor's, I went berserk after Dar'Garnok and Kodlak's. If I don't learn to control those parts of myself that make me want to disconnect or shred people with the Beast, it will only be a matter of time before they get the best of me as Kasan."

She crosses her arms. "It will be difficult."

"I know, but I want to try. I cannot let it go that easily," I say.

Aela nods. "I will stand by you, no matter what you chose."

"Thank you." I draw her close and wrap my arms around her. She buries her face into my neck and I grin. _I could live with this forever._

 _Then do._

Before I can let my mind catch up with my heart, I pull away from her and hold her at arm's length. "Aela, I…"

She is beautiful. Blood splatter and three-day-old war paint. The smell of battle and home. She quirks and eyebrow. "What is it, Kasan?"

"I uh…" I start patting my pockets. I like to carry different amulets, just in case, but I do not think this one sits in the pouches at my waist or the bottom of my bag. Nords and their traditions with Mara. Shaking my head, I throw up my hands. "Screw it. Aela… we've been through so much. I love you. Adventuring with you, taking on the Silver Hand, putting things right with Kodlak… I don't want to stop having adventures with you."

"Kasan, what are you trying to say?"

"Aela," I squeeze her hands, "will you be my Shield-Sister, my _qedin-roliter_ , forever?"

"Are you—?"

"Yes, yes. Marry me, Aela."

A smile stretches across her face before she leans in and kisses me. "I thought I'd have to be the one to propose."

* * *

 **Ta'agra translations:**

 _Sallidadna di Rhojrianinaraj -_ Death of the Wolf. Literally: Death of Wild-doglike-animal. Because Ta'agra has no word for wolf. Or articles. Cuz ya know. Title of the chapter.

 _Rajhin kodesh_ – Rajhin's shadow! An exclamation of surprise. Rajhin was a legendary Khajiiti thief.

 _tonsh jer_ – thank you.

 _Jer raba dosunej_ and _jer raba dokhunu'tu_ – You have a good heart. Ja'Kasan and Aela discuss the use of _sunej_ (the organ) and _khunu'tu_ (the metaphorical heart).

 _Qedin-liter –_ Shield-brother.

 _Qedin-roliter_ – Shield-sister.

 _sunosrenaz_ – the time between midnight and dawn (literally before ( _suno_ ) + dawn ( _srenaz_ ).

 _dok wafa Khajiit!_ – stop (you) stupid Khajiit! The "you" (like in commands of many languages) is implied.

 _Khrassozay qojiit_ – clawless coward. Literally: clawless one-who-fears.

 _jetwijiijri'a_ – cut-skins. Insult to non-Khajiit.

 _Ahzirr khi_ – ready? Literally: We go? There is no word for "ready" in Ta'agra, as it is an idiom.

 _Kha'jay krimir iso jer_ – Moons smile upon you (well wish).


	9. Epilogue: Raj'kono

**Disclaimer: The Elder Scrools series, Skyrim, and related titles are property of the developers and creatives.**

 **Author's Note:** This is it.

Thanks for the ride, all. The translation of this chapter is "forever."

* * *

 **Raj'kono**

I get up and hobble over to the washroom. As I splash water from the basin over my face, I gaze into the looking glass we have fixed on the wall. The fur on my face has started to go white, framing my eyes and lips. One of my eyes is clouding with cataracts and the sight makes me blink rapidly. As if I could wash away the disease. And worst of all, I feel it in my bones. Age. I feel what Kodlak must have all those years ago.

I am so tired.

It's been over for several years now, that bloody war that rent Skyrim in two. The outcome hardly seems relevant: Talos worship is allowed once more and though we remain with the Empire, the Dominion has partially withdrawn their influence. The Blades continue strong, the organization I once helped build now running without my guide. It's a sort of bittersweet feeling. I know Aela feels it too. She and I, we have done so much together. She joined The Blades for a time, even took over as Harbinger of the Companions when I wanted to raise our son.

The thought brings a smile to my face. I'd never thought about having children in this strange land before Aela, but two years into our marriage, I knew I wanted a child. She was understanding, but had less interest in raising a child. It didn't matter to me. I said I would do it. And I did. Stepped down from my responsibilities for four years while he grew. A small Khajiit we named J'Kin. Adopted, of course, as Aela and I could not conceive a child and Aela had no interested in carrying one. We waited for several years for the right opportunity, and then Khajro, my old friend, sent word that his caravan had stumbled upon a Khajiit cub, his parents either dead or gone. He was so small...

He grew up inside Jorrvastr. Aela and I worked together to teach him the ways of the Companions and watched over the Companions together. She handled matters outside the hall and I inside. We were a great team.

I feel her hands on my shoulders, and her face appears in the mirror next to mine. Age is a funny thing. A scar cuts her upper lip, but she hardly has any wrinkles. Only crow's feet spreading out from the sides of her eyes like spider's legs. She stopped wearing war paint long ago, but she's never stopped looking fierce. Aela kisses my cheek, smiling.

"Good morning, Dro'Kasan." She uses the honorific for grandfathers and patriarchs.

I huff, "I'm not that old."

She laughs, but offers me her strong arm regardless. "Of course not."

We hobble out to the porch and sit on the bench we built years ago. My head falls softly against the wall of our home as Aela cradles my hand. The sun touches the mountains, slipping beneath their rocks and snow. Somewhere, a wolf howls.

"Aela?"

"Yes, dear."

"Run with me."

Aela squeezes my hand. "Blood running hot?"

"We shall see tonight."

We tear off into the grasslands around our cottage outside the walls of Whiterun. We are not the Harbingers. We are not the Companions. We are just us. And we are free.

Hircine laughs to see us scamper like little ones.


End file.
